


Forget Me Not

by Luxurycruisinglarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, M/M, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxurycruisinglarry/pseuds/Luxurycruisinglarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis steals things and Harry needs to learn how to just breathe. Zayn wonders if bad memories are better than no memories.<br/>or,<br/>Titanic!au loosely (ha) based off the movie with some similarities and some differences to keep it interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this took me a long time which is probably weird because it's probably shit but. This is my first time posting anything on AO3 so sorry if I screw anything up or something of that variation. I would just like to say thank you for all the amazing people who kept encouraging me to finish this because I almost didn't a few times (lucky for you). I own all seven members of One Direction and this story is 100% true with zero historical inaccuracies. Good luck, don't blame me if it sucks and I self-betad which means probably some mistakes so don't hate me. You've been warned. xx

Louis Tomlinson is definitely not a dirty, rotten thief.

Alright. Maybe Louis Tomlinson is a very attractive, amazingly charismatic, brilliantly hilarious thief. But honest, Louis Tomlinson doesn’t pretend to be anything other than the thief he has proclaimed as his overall profession at the time being. It’s just not his fault some people are so feeble minded they let him rob them blind right under their noses.  
Louis kicked his feet up onto the chair on his left, staring down at the cards in his hand. The pub he had chosen was dimly lit, smoke tendrils curling around in the air. The smell of beer was heavy, and the air was thick with the body heat radiating from every person gathered around the small table. They were all watching with rapt attention, whispering bets to each other in low voices.  
Niall sat beside Louis, glaring at his hand. Niall never had a good pokerface, while Louis liked to pride himself in staying completely emotionless throughout the game. Or, at least, only show the emotion he was faking.  
The men across from them were from somewhere Louis couldn’t quite place. Germany, maybe? Louis only knew the two blokes names, one Sven and one Olaf. Olaf was sitting straight, his elbows digging into the table. He was biting his lip, eyebrows slightly drawn together. He was rubbing off the sticker on his beer bottle, almost unconsciously. Louis could tell he had a bad hand.  
As for Sven, he was leaning back in his chair, shoulders relaxed and head cocked to one side. Sven looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Louis thought, perhaps, Sven was under the impression he had this in the bag.  
But you see, Louis had both his and Niall’s life savings spread out across the table in front of them. His pillowcase was stuffed with the rest of their items, clothes and such. Nothing the two German men would be interested in.  
What interested Louis was the two third-class tickets aboard the RMS Titanic strewn across the table along with the rest of the coins and bills. Sven had almost strangled Olaf after he added them to the pile, muttering something in his native language that didn’t seem all too thrilled. Which made Louis very, very intrigued and very intent on winning this game.  
“Alright boys,” Louis finally spoke up, and the pub hushed. Outside, he could see the pier with it’s hundreds of civilians milling about. Some were boarding, some working, some waving goodbye. Louis did not want to be one waving from the ground. He wanted to be the one on deck, high in the air and watching Liverpool disappear into the distance. To go to America and start over. To not be known as Louis Tomlinson, the twenty-two year old without a penny to his name and dead parents.  
“The moment of truth.”  
Niall dropped his cards to the table with a grumble, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes bore into the side of Louis’ head. Louis got the message loud and clear: win this or I’ll kill you.  
Louis chuckled. “Well, Niall, you have zilch. Sorry there bud.”  
Olaf followed Niall’s example, dropping his cards to the table without much enthusiasm. Louis pretended to wince.  
“Ouch,” he commented, turning his attention to Sven. He shot him one of his most charming smiles. “You’re next big boy.”  
Sven, with much more show and confidence, laid his cards carefully on the wooden surface, grin splitting his face. His ugly smirk only increased when Louis’ face fell. Niall looked about ten seconds from punching something.  
“Aw, man…” Louis sighed, glancing forlornly at his cards. “Two pair? I hate to say this but…” he directed his gaze at Niall as he heard Sven’s whoop of delight, diving greedily for the money on the table. “...looks like I just win at everything, eh?” He flung his hand onto the table, grinning broadly as he displayed his full house for all the pub too see. It was Sven’s turn to look upset.  
Niall jumped from his seat, hollering and laughing and twirling a random girl around in circles while she giggled delightedly. Olaf was muttering to himself in his random gibberish, head in his hands as Sven balled his hands into angry fists.  
“We’re going to America!” Niall chanted excitedly, beaming at Louis as he jumped onto his best mate and kissed him right on the nose.  
Louis laughed loudly, shoving Niall off when a low voice cut through the din. “Nah mate,” the voice was saying. Louis glanced over his shoulder to see the pub owner, leaning against the bar with raised eyebrows. “Titanic going to America, in five minutes, with or without you.”  
Louis glanced frantically at the clock. Indeed, they had five minutes. He had been so caught up in the game he hadn’t even noticed.  
“Shit!” he yelled, quickly shoving their winnings into the pillowcase and swinging it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Ni,” he yelled urgently, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the door. “Good bye, everyone, you have been a wonderful audience,” Louis called back to their audience, tipping his imaginary hat. He then grabbed Niall once more and bolted out the door, into the thick masses of the dock.  
Everywhere, everywhere there was noise and people and luggage and carriages and horses and life. Louis had never seen so much bustling life, never seen so many classes intermingling at one time. It was-it was a bit overwhelming and for just a moment he stumbled, staring wide-eyed up at the massive hull of the most tremendous ocean liner to grace the waters of Liverpool. Of perhaps Europe. Of perhaps the world!  
“Louis!” Niall shouted urgently over the din, jerking at his best friend’s sleeve pointedly. “Their pulling in the gangways!”  
Louis snapped from his reverie, physically shaking his head. “Oh-Oh right! C’mon then, Niall!”  
And then they were sprinting, ducking under umbrellas held by bejeweled, first class passengers and trying not to get trampled by the hoards of people and horses alike. They made it to the gangway just as it detached from the dock, Louis making a split second decision and launching himself off the pier and onto the slowly retreating gangway.  
The man operating the retraction of it jolted, jerking his head up to find two very frantic young men running unsteadily up towards him.  
“Hey-!” he began, ready to tell the two obviously no-good hoodlums off when Louis waved the tickets in the man’s face.  
“We have tickets, see?” Louis asked, shoving them into the man’s hand. “We’re passengers.”  
The man glanced down at the tickets, brow furrowed as he scanned them. He looked like he was looking for a good excuse to shove the two off into the water. When the tickets turned up authentic he reluctantly waved them through, Niall practically jumping onto Louis’ back as they entered onto the ship.  
“We’re the luckiest bastards in the world, you realize that?” Louis asked as they gave the man with the papers their names and tickets (“Olaf and Sven, the blond is Olaf and single if you’re looking”) and started up to the top deck, passing other passengers and workers alike. Louis noted how many of the elite looking members of society eyed his sack with what looked like disdain, and he made a point of grinning as brightly as he could in their direction.  
Niall just laughed in response, the cheery sound bouncing off the walls until they hit open air and were nearly crushed in the crowd. Everyone was crowded around the rails, waving and yelling down to the people below. Children danced around and played, some sitting atop a parent’s shoulders and waving down furiously to the crowd.  
Louis ran towards the rail, dropping his bag beside his feet. “Good bye!” he yelled as loudly as he could, pumping his fist into the air. “You’ve all been a lovely audience! I shall remember you all!” he pressed his palm to his lips, sending them all kisses with a flourish of his hand.  
Niall laughed like a madman, high off the feeling of being on this magnificent ship and their fortunate luck. It wasn’t everyday something like this happened to two less than average boys from the slums.  
Louis himself was having similar thoughts, grin wide and brilliant as the RMS Titanic headed out for open waters, taking both him and his best mate to America. Maybe they would own a bar. Maybe they would strike oil and become filthy rich. Maybe Niall would spend his days performing with his guitar in the streets while Louis hopped around with a hat extended, being his loving back-up singer and begging for money from the crowd.  
Whatever the case, they were on their way now.  
No going back, Louis thought with his large, bright smile.  
*  
No going back.  
The thought filled Harry with dread as he paced the cabin, hands crammed into his pockets and teeth worrying his bottom lip. Zayn has been watching him for a bit, just reclining in one of the plush armchairs as he blows smoke around the room. Honestly.  
“Zayn, could you not do that around me, please?” Harry asks, trying not to snap at his best mate but not succeeding as much as he had hoped. “You know I can’t stand the smell, it gives me a headache.”  
Zayn huffs, kicking his feet up onto the table across from him. He blows a pointedly large amount of smoke towards Harry, who crinkles his nose and tries to swat the infuriating smell away.  
“You are such a square when you’re angry,” Zayn retorts, moving his hand in a circular motion airily. “‘Zayn don’t do this. Zayn don’t have fun. Zayn don’t shag the maids-’”  
Harry manages a small smile for his friend’s benefit. He is being unfairly irritated today, but for good reason. “Hey, now, we treat ladies like ladies at my place-”  
“What about the pool boy?” Zayn shoots back, eyebrows raised and laughs at the face Harry gives him.  
“I was fifteen, that was three years ago,” Harry huffs out, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to push the curls out of his eyes. They are really getting annoying but he can’t bear to part with his long hair. It’s been that way for quite awhile. His mum thinks it should be cut and probably plans on doing so when they finally reach America.  
America.  
Harry thinks he is going to be sick all over the floor and, if he’s lucky, Zayn as well.  
Zayn merely shrugs. “All I’m saying is that I’m not the only villain here, mister.”  
Harry simply falls back onto the couch, noting with a wince it’s not as soft as he original thought it would be. Zayn notices his cringe of pain and nods his understanding.  
“Yeah, I was expecting something a bit nicer too,” Zayn agreed. “But they’ve never been broken in so their bound to be a bit stiff. Kind of like you.”  
Harry huffs loudly, exaggeratedly gripping at his hair. “I’m not a stiff! Tell me why I’m friends with you again?”  
Zayn grins and winks. “Because of all the benefits.”  
Harry just rolls his eyes in a way that’d get a smack from his mother. ‘Impolite’, she would say as she gathers her skirts and marches away.  
“If there was benefits, I haven’t been seeing any of them.”  
Zayn looks about ready to say something back when there is a sharp knock at the door. Harry tenses, expecting it to be his mother or worse, Ila, but the voice that comes through his distinctly male.  
“Um, housekeeping! Sort of,” the boy says from the other side and Harry gets up with a heavy sigh to go open the door when it appears Zayn is too busy making smoke rings in the air.  
The boy Harry opens the door to is young, maybe only a year or two older than Harry himself. His hair is closely cropped to his skull in a sort of strict looking way, but his brown eyes are wide and round which reminds Harry a bit of a puppy. For some reason, the boy makes Harry feel calmer and he can feel his irritation ebbing away, if only slightly.  
“May I help you?” Harry asks as politely as he can while the boy fidgets slightly.  
The boy seems to relax a bit at Harry’s smile. “Uh, yeah-I mean, I’m here to help you? I mean, I have to come around and ask how your experience was getting onto the boat, make sure you have enough towels and such-”  
“Yes, everything is quite up to par,” Harry assures the boy hurriedly. He seems worried, wringing his hands a bit and fumbling over his speech. Perhaps he’s new at the whole ‘work’ thing. Perhaps he’s new at the whole ‘talking to people’ thing.  
The boy looks genuinely relieved at that. “That’s great! I mean, if you need anything just ring. I’m Liam by the way, I cover this sector so I’ll probably usually be your- Not exactly sure what I am.” Liam stops, brows furrowed. “Room service guy? I guess.”  
Zayn swoops in to save them both.  
“Awesome, I’m Zayn and this is Harry,” Zayn greets Liam, shaking his hand furiously. Liam looks a bit surprised and almost doesn’t shake back, but manners must be hardwired into his brain because he catches on quickly.  
This is why Harry liked Zayn from day one. He would have been stuck with him regardless, his own mum and Zayn’s being friends and all, but he did really like the guy. He, despite his wealth and status on the ‘food chain’, treated everyone with respect and care. Equally. Zayn was a pretty good guy.  
That’s why Harry is friends with him, right.  
“It’s great to meet you, Mr...Zayn,” Liam says, a bit unsure. But he still looks happy all the same. “And to you too, Harry.”  
Harry shakes his hand as well.  
When Liam finally leaves, stuttering about needing to go finish the rest of his work, Zayn drops back into his chair.  
“I like him,” Zayn states plaintively. “He seems nice”  
Harry feels inclined to agree.  
“Get up, Zayner,” Harry prods, bumping his foot against Zayn’s. “I want to do some exploring before Mum and Ila pop in. Honestly, maybe throw myself off the rail and into the water.”  
Zayn’s eyebrows quirk up. “Does that mean I can have two beds then? I can push them together and make a double-king size!”  
Harry kicks him harder, this time in the ankle. Zayn yelps and Harry smiles, stopping himself from apologizing just on principal.  
“C’mon, now, that hurt,” Zayn grumbles. “I mean-marrying Ila can’t be all that-Nah you’re right.”  
Harry sighs. “But the worst part is that she’s lovely,” he groans out, very near to dropping to the floor and just lying there for the rest of the trip, or perhaps, his life. “She’s very sweet and very pretty but I just-there’s nothing between us. Whenever I try to talk to her she doesn’t even try to tag along. She would let me ramble on for hours and keep a smile plasters on her face, even if it was about something boring like politics.”  
“Politics can be very invigorating,” Zayn points out and Harry gives him a look. “Alright, maybe not all that much.”  
“She has no… No…” What is the word Harry is looking for here?  
“Depth?” Zayn suggests, grinding his cigarette into the small ashtray. “Character? Personality? Ability to think for herself?”  
Harry nods, but then feels a bit guilty. “I mean.. She’s very nice. But she’s just not for me.”  
Zayn nods solemnly, lips pursed a bit. Zayn always purses his lips when he’s thinking, so he purses his lips an awful lot.  
“Why can’t you just tell your mum that you’re…?” Zayn asks gently, not wanting to say the word aloud. The last time he had, they’d been fighting and maybe Zayn had thrown it up into Harry’s face. He didn’t want a repeat of getting a vase hurled at his head. Harry was normally a very kind and gentle person, but when he’s angry he’s rather terrifying, Zayn thinks.  
Harry’s lips press into a thin line otherwise he doesn’t react. “Because I don’t know if I actually am,” Harry finally mutters in exasperation, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “I know I find blokes attractive, but I also catch myself staring at girls too. I just feel like…. It would be so restricting? Like, you have so many wonderful people in the world, who cares what gender they are? If you like em you like em, plain and simple.” Alright, maybe not so plain and simple to the rest of the world (Harry’s mum included).  
There’s another knock on the door, and this time his mother’s voice rises to his ears from the other side. Harry is quite upset he didn’t get the chance to explore without his mother’s watchful gaze, but he supposes they will be on the ship for quite sometime. He’ll have plenty of time to do so later.  
Zayn somehow managed to stand without Harry noticing because the next thing he knows Zayn is pulling him into a tight hug. Harry grips him back for dear life.  
“Be whoever you want to be on this ship,” Zayn whispers into Harry’s ear, Anne’s voice rising through and her sharp knocks resounding in the quiet room. “Don’t worry about it until America. Let this trip be your time to do some stuff and leave all the figuring out for the mainland.”  
“I knew I kept you around for a good reason,” Harry mumbled into the shoulder of Zayn’s shirt, breathing heavily through his mouth to avoid smelling the tobacco on Zayn’s clothes.  
Zayn pulls back, patting Harry on the shoulder. He’s grinning. “Told you. Benefits.”  
*  
There was a bit of confusion with Sven and Olaf’s roommates.  
There was four beds in total, two stacked on top of each other to make bunkbeds. Niall had almost instantly called top, scrambling up the ladder and flopping atop the bed.  
The room was small and there was apparently only two baths for about seven hundred of all the third-class passengers, but Louis could really care less about personal hygiene at the moment. He’s practically twitching in excitement, he’d probably fall and break his head open in the shower anyhow.  
It’s been about an hour since the Titanic set sail and still, the buzz of the pairs newfound freedom hadn't worn off.  
“Who are you?” one guy asked, in an accent similar to that of Sven and Olaf’s. Maybe his was a bit thicker though, and the other guy didn’t appear to be able to speak english at all.  
Louis seized the guy’s hand, pumping it up and down a few times. “The names Louis Tomlinson, theater enthusiast and fine arts extraordinaire. And the blond behind me is Niall.”  
“Niall Horan,” Niall adds, as if the last name made a difference. “And he’s not a fine arts extraordinaire as much as he is a drama queen.”  
Louis chooses to ignore the last comment purely with Niall’s best interest in mind.  
“Won these tickets off your buddies, so I’m afraid you won’t be seeing them anytime soon,” Louis filled the two-or one-in quickly, dropping his bag onto his bed and tugging on Niall’s sleeve. “Don’t mind us, we’ll hardly be in here anyway. Much too cramped, not one too keen on small spaces ‘m ‘fraid.”  
Niall let’s Louis tug him from the top of the bed and then their out the door, leaving the man to fill in his mate. Or whatever the two were.  
“‘Spect we should have asked for their names as well?” Niall asks, running his fingers through his hair.  
Louis just shakes his head as they climb the stairs to the upper decks. It’s impossible to get lost in this place with maps bolted to the walls around every corner.  
“Nah, we’ll see enough of them over our voyage,” Louis soothes Niall’s sudden urge for politeness. “Reckon they aren’t too happy about us barging in on their party, best we let them settle the news first.”  
They make the rest of their journey up into fresh air with little comments about everything. How the paint looks better when they're nearing the first class corridors, how more paintings adorn the walls as well. How the carpet gets softer as they climb higher and how the air begins to stink distinctly of flowers and perfume. It’s sort of an unpleasant smell, as it’s far too strong.  
They don’t go into the first-class section just yet, considering they’d probably get kicked out if a staff member deemed appropriate.  
They made their way to the Poop Deck-Niall snickering a bit when Louis suggested it in a very mature manner-so they made their way there. Apparently, being third-class and all they weren’t considered special enough for much else.  
They spent most of their first day there, playing board games with other passengers and staff members alike. Some men were smoking, though not much. Little kids jumped around and played, under the watchful gaze of their mother or father. Louis had just finished playing a very enthralling game of tic-tac-toe when Niall started shivering.  
It was getting colder out as the light faded, the sun sinking below the waves and turning ocean and sky alike an orangey hue. The ending of the day sort of smacked Louis in the face. He hadn’t really stopped to really put thought into it before but… He was actually on the Titanic. He was on his way to America, the better life. He could go there and be anything or anybody he wanted.  
Wow.  
Niall’s teeth began chattering which was bad. Niall had a bum knee, and it always got harder to walk and it hurt more the colder it got.  
“We should go inside, eh, Nialler?” Louis asked as the little girl he had been playing with huffed at Louis’ lack of attention and turned to go find someone more fun to play with.  
Niall shrugged. “I do like it out here but my knees getting a bit stiff,” he admitted, stretching his leg out and wincing just the tiniest bit. “Reckon we could go get some food?” He asked it hopefully, as if Louis would decline him a basic necessity of life.  
“Yeah, I’m starved,” Louis agreed, hooking his hands under Niall’s armpits and dragging him up into a standing position.  
They made it back inside to the relative warmth in a matter of minutes, Niall never once complaining. Niall was sensitive about his knee. He didn’t like people to think he was weak or vulnerable because of it, or so he had admitted drunk one night at a pub with Louis back in France.  
On their way into the designate dining area, Louis nearly crashed into one of the servers leaving. Or, he assumed he was a server, because he was wearing a nametag and what appeared to be a uniform.  
The nametag read LIAM in big, bolded letters.  
“Sorry ‘bout that mate,” Louis apologized as he steadied the boy’s shoulders. Liam smiled down at him.  
“Think I should be the sorry one, I did run into you,” Liam told Louis, still grinning. “Just in a bit of a hurry I guess. Boss is a bit of yeller and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”  
Louis assured Liam it was just fine and Liam asked if he could join them in the dining center as he was done with his shift and didn’t know anyone well enough to sit by. Niall was the first one to agree, jumping a bit on his wobbly knee.  
“Yeah, totally!” Niall agreed, leading the way. He hobbled a bit, knee bending only slightly in a way that looked far from comfortable. “Only know Louis on this giant thing. Be nice to have a mate who’s not a complete tosser.”  
Louis shoved Niall lightly in the shoulder, dropping down into a long table with about fifteen or so others crowded around. The space didn’t have all that many tables, just long ones. Niall settled into the seat across from Louis and Liam followed suite, grin still lighting up his face.  
“Ah, so it’s Louis then?” Liam inquired, folding his hands under his chin and resting his head there. “I’m Liam.” His gaze settled on Niall. “And you are?”  
“Niall. Nice to meet you, Liam,” Niall said with a bright grin and Louis was struck with the fact at how sincere Niall always sounded. Not that Louis hadn’t noticed before, knowing the boy for most of his life and all, but Louis never really thought about it before. It was a bit troublesome how willing Niall seemed to trust people but, then again, Louis supposed he wasn’t one to talk in that exact field anyway.  
“Pleasure to meet both of you,” Liam returned politely, and it seemed Niall was about to say something when their food was delivered.  
“Plain but yummy,” Louis commented, slathering some butter onto his bread. It was still warm and that in itself was heavy. “I’ll gladly overlook the lack of baths if I get to eat like this for the rest of the trip. Better stuff some in our pockets so we’ll have something when we get to America, eh Niall?”  
Niall nods, not even bothering to answer verbally through the food stuffed in his mouth. He looked a bit like a chipmunk, Louis thought absently to himself.  
“What do you two do then?” Liam asked, sipping gingerly at the warm tea in his hand. “What’d ya do back in England?”  
Louis shrugged, pushing his vegetables around. As much as he appreciated a warm meal, vegetables had never been one of his favorite food groups. “This and that. Worked at a pub once for a week, that was fun. Won most of the money we had off of poker games. I’m quite good.” Niall snorted. Well, alright, maybe he hadn’t exactly followed the rules to a perfect T, but rules are meant to be broken and all that jazz.  
Liam didn’t seem to find anything wrong in the statement, however, and simply smiled brighter. “That’s quite neat. I’m completely shit at poker, I can never keep a straight face.”  
Louis grinned, kicking Niall lightly in the foot under the table. “Then you and Ni would get along splendidly. You should see his face everytime he gets a bad hand, might think the world is actually ending.”  
Niall swallowed down his food quickly to protest. “Well, most of the time you bet out lifes’ savings so I believe I have every right to be a bit worried.”  
Louis waved him away with a flick of his wrist. “Details. Never been one to like paying attention to the smaller things. I prefer the big picture.”  
Liam’s eyebrows quirked up. “The bigger picture, eh? Is that why you’re heading to America then?”  
Louis nodded happily. “Yes, I plan on painting a rather large one there. Figuratively speaking of course. I couldn’t paint anything if my life depended on it.”  
“I can back up this statement fully,” Niall agrees and Liam laughs.  
The rest of the hour they spend in the dining room, eating and talking and the like. Liam introduces them briefly to another guy who works on board named Josh and Niall offers him to join them. Josh says he wishes he could but he’s got late-night duty on the first class decks, cleaning out the pool and such. Louis wonders just how skilled you’d have to be to sneak in there late at night for a swim. It’d probably be pretty impossible and Louis much rather not spend the entirety of the trip in a jail cell.  
When Niall and Liam start for the general room Louis excused himself to go up to the deck and smoke a bit. He didn’t have any on him, but he figured he could bum a few off someone he met up top. He’d seen a lot of that today, while he had been playing hopscotch with some little boy named Tim.  
He figured he could go the smoking room as he started his way up, shivering as he neared the doors. But he was certain that inside it was stuffy and hot, with drunks everywhere and enough smoke to kill you instantly. So Louis can fight his shivering a bit at least for just one moment.  
It’s not like he’s going to freeze to death, anyway.  
*

There are two things you should know about Anne, Harry thinks, before you meet her. One: she used to be really lovely. Harry remembered being young and scraping his knee when he fell off his horse, and he remembers how his mum bandaged it instead of letting the servants. He remembered how she kissed it to make it all better and he remembered her singing him lullabies and teaching him new things.  
But then, of course, Harry turned fourteen and his father died. Then things became complicated. Most importantly, the money became complicated. Anne had considered marriage as an immediate option, find someone young and wealthy and foolish, but who wanted a widow with a son? A nearly fifteen year old son at that. ‘  
Two: Anne really does love Harry. Harry doesn’t think she doesn’t, knows that she does things with Harry’s best interests in mind. Well, maybe that’s stretching it a bit. She does things that she think will, in the long run, help secure both Harry and herself.  
Which is why Harry really tries not to blame his mum for thinking rashly. He really does, truthfully, but sometimes its hard not to blame someone when you’re so angry.  
Ila had popped into the picture about three months ago. She was Anne’s back-up plan since she couldn’t find a suitor for herself.  
Ila’s family was very wealthy with a very good and well-respected name, and since the Style’s fortune was dwindling all Anne had to bargain with was their own last name as well. No one knew about the steady decline of the Style’s bank except perhaps Zayn’s mum, but Harry knew she wouldn’t tell. He really did love Zayn’s mum.  
Ila was going to be Anne’s salvation. Ila was going to help bring up their status, help secure their future as part of the elite. Help Harry get a good job in America, one where he could go to everyday and make millions before coming home to Ila and their sons and daughters. To help support the future Williams-Styles future family.  
All this barrelled through Harry’s mind as he sat at diner, barely even listening to Anne speak to Ila about the arrangements.  
“The invitations have all been sent out,” she was saying, just barely allowing the wine to ghost her stained red lips. “About five hundred in all, didn’t want to overwhelm the two of you.”  
She smiled at the girl across from her, the one with blonde hair and bright blue eyes who smiled back, and with that smile told Anne she was going to be alright. Anne didn’t notice how weary the girl’s blue eyes were.  
“Sounds lovely,” Ila said, nodding her head curtly. She peeked over at Harry from the corner of her eye, noticing just how mortified he looked. In the short time she had known him she had learned just how difficult it was for him to bottle up his true emotions. They always seemed to be displayed in his lips and eyes.  
“It will be,” Anne continued, talking about the flowers and the location and everything that made Harry want to throw up.  
He needed air. He needed to air right now.  
He pushed his chair back suddenly, the legs scraping a bit harshly against the floor. Anne’s head whipped up quickly at the sound and Ila dropped her eyes to the table quickly. Harry thought she looked sort of ashamed.  
“I just need to get some fresh air,” Harry explained, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his mother’s powdered cheek. “Sea sickness getting to me a bit.”  
At the thought of Harry getting sick all over herself and future daughter-in-law, Anne nodded hurriedly.  
“Alright, do hurry back though,” she told her son briefly, turning her gaze back to Ila.  
Harry mumbled he would and hurried from the room, almost stubbing his toe on the way out while he stumbled toward the deck.  
He just needed some air, that was it, just a quick breather.  
It was cold, surprisingly so. Harry knew they had said it would be cold, but he didn’t realize that they meant to the point of teeth chattering. He blew out a long breath, watching it cloud in the air in front of him. Maybe he should have listened to Zayn, who had found an interest in fussing over Harry’s lack of a coat while Harry got ready for dinner with Ila and his mum. Zayn had decided to stay in the room, feigning illness when he really just hated dinner with Anne and Ila as much as Harry did.  
The lucky bastard.  
Harry made his way from the deck, shockingly crowded with a few people. He would have figured no one would have been as insane as him to decide to spend their night outside when they could be inside, swathed in blankets and wrapped in warmth.  
He wanted somewhere secluded, somewhere he wouldn’t be bothered. Somewhere he could think.  
He made his way to the edge of the ship, leaving behind passengers until it seemed he was alone. He leaned against the rail of the ship, dropping his head so it hung loosely between his shoulders and his chin bumped his chest. It was an awkward position and it hurt his neck, but he didn’t mind too much.  
Harry watched the waves, far far below, roll against the ship and frothed along the edges. He wondered if perhaps there was any dolphins under the dark water and then wondered whether or not dolphins came out at night.  
Harry leaned as far over the railing as he could, almost until his toes left the ground. He hung there for a moment, teetering on the edge of the railing. Teetering towards the safe of the ship beneath him or the harsh waves below him.  
He blew out another puff of air, fingers curling around the cool metal of the railings. His fingers felt a bit numb and stiff, and he pondered briefly that if he fell, would he be able to catch himself? Would his fingers move fast enough to secure themselves around the edge of the ship and would he be able to even pull himself up in the first place?  
He leaned back onto his feet, finally putting his full weight back onto the floorboards. Something inside him buzzed with disappointment.  
“Shit mate, almost gave me a freakin heart attack,” a voice said behind him and Harry spun around as quickly as he could, hands still clutching at the railing.  
It was just a boy. A boy with long hair that curled at the nap of his neck and scruff that defined his jawline nicely. Alright then, maybe not a boy but certainly not a man. There was still a boyish glint in his eye, a hint of an impish grin in his otherwise frowning mouth.  
Harry realized he was staring and cleared his throat once.  
“I-I’m sorry?” he said, words lifting up a bit. “I mean-why?”  
The boy looked at him like he was crazy, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and Harry crinkled his nose. Luckily, the wind was blowing in such a way the smell didn’t waft towards him.  
“You hanging off the bloody end of the ship, that’s why,” the boy answered, words blunt. Harry thought he had a nice voice, all soft and high. Not annoyingly so, either. Endearingly so.  
Which is stupid, so so stupid because they’ve known each other for two seconds and already Harry thinks the way he speaks his endearing. Which no, he doesn’t, just thinks that others might appreciate the quality.  
Right.  
“Thought I’d have to jump in after you,” the boy continued, rubbing absently at his nose. Which wasn’t endearing at all. “Hate to do it too, the water down there is freezing. I’d probably end up losing a finger and then my amazing good looks would be soiled.”  
Harry felt the corners of his mouth quirk up, which felt nice. He hadn’t smiled in the past hour and a half so it felt pretty good to say the least.  
“Hate for that to happen,” Harry murmured back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Though they might be soiled a bit more if you lost an ear maybe.”  
The boy beamed, as if surprised in Harry’s acceptance to play along.  
“Right you are! A finger can be easily overlooked, but an ear might be a bit tricky.” He pushed his hair away from his face with his fingers. “Mind if I bum a smoke off you?” he asked, dropping his own onto the floor and grinding what was left of it into the deck. Harry didn’t think that was strictly allowed but he didn’t mention it.  
“I don’t smoke,” Harry said and the boy cocked his head to the side.  
“Why not?”  
Harry simply shrugged. “My mate does and it drives me crazy, the smell gives me a headache. Plus, lung cancer? No thanks.”  
The boy did this weird, half grin thing were he squinted so intensely his eyes were reduced to tiny slits. Harry quite liked that smile. It was nice.  
“So you’re a stiff? A square?”  
“You sound like my mate, Zayn,” Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’d both get along fabulously.”  
The boy laughed, bright and cheerful. Harry momentarily forgot about the lack of feeling in his toes. “You think so? Well I’d love to meet him, Mr….?”  
It was an invitation for Harry to offer a name to the boy. Somehow that felt a bit strange. Not bad, just strange. He wasn’t used to people meeting him and wanting to know his name. Most knew it already.  
“Styles,” Harry supplied with a moment’s hesitation. “Harry Styles.  
Before Harry could blink the boy was right there, hand enveloping Harry’s in a vigorous shake. He had small hands, but they were warm and soft and firm. And Harry wasn’t thinking about this, dear Lord he’s not.  
“I’m Louis. The Louis Tomlinson.” He sounded very serious and Harry struggled not to crack a grin. So far, meeting Louis had been the highlight of his day.  
“There’s a The?” Harry asked, a bit disappointed when Louis pulled his hand back. Warmth and all that.  
Louis scrunched his nose, acting as if the question was ridiculous. “Well of course there is! Well,” he amended quickly, shrugging. His jacket slid over his shoulder and he yanked it back up with a shiver. “There will be one day. Some day you are going to see my face everywhere. Plastered on posters and the lot. I’m going to be the biggest theater star in all of America.”  
Harry nodded, amused. “I’m sure you will.”  
Louis punched him lightly in the arm, face lit up with a grin. “You are so much more encouraging than Niall. He likes to think he knows everything. Well,” he looks slightly guilty. “Not trying to shit on Niall or anything, he’s great and he does support me. Stan on the other hand-”  
Harry would be more than happy to allow Louis to ramble on about random things, to let Louis keep talking until Harry had forgotten everything outside how blue Louis’ eyes were and how bright his teeth were in the dark.  
But the universe doesn’t like Harry so that doesn’t happen of course.  
“Harry? Your mum sent me-” Ila cuts off abruptly, pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders. She’s rather tall, Harry realizes suddenly. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were, ah, busy…”  
And Harry’s eyebrows knit together, confused, when he realizes she’s staring at Louis. Louis seems to somehow sense the weird tension because he immediately jumps to Harry’s rescue.  
“Ah, hallo miss,” Louis greets, hurrying over to shake her hand politely. Ila lets him, though it doesn’t appear she is shaking back. She’s smiling, though.  
“Hello, sorry to interrupt,” Ila apologizes and Harry thinks that’s a bit typical. Of course her first instinct would be to apologize for something that’s not entirely her fault. Then Harry realizes he did the same thing to Louis-though perhaps his was his fault-and feels bad for getting a bit irritated with Ila.  
“No need for ‘sorry’s,” Louis assures her quickly, glancing over his shoulder to grin a bit cheekily at Harry. “Sorry to keep young Harold away, didn’t realize he had a bed time.”  
Harry is confused until he realizes Louis is kidding.  
“I don’t. And it’s not Harold.” He frowns when Louis simply laughs. “What’s funny?”  
“You,” Louis answers, and even Ila places gloved hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “You were pouting.”  
Harry most definitely was not pouting.  
“I most definitely was not pouting,” Harry says out loud, forcing himself to not do just that. “I don’t pout.”  
Louis just shrugs. “Whatever you say, Curly.”  
Ila clears her throat. “As much as I enjoy listening to you two bicker, I was instructed to bring Harry back inside immediately.”  
Stupid Ila and her stupid need to listen to everything she’s told.  
“But I’m sure Harry would be delighted to continue on your little conversation in the morning right back at this spot. As it’s only polite for gentlemen to fully complete their exchange of ideas. Hate to be rude, wouldn’t we Harry?”  
Brilliant Ila and her brilliant ideas.  
Harry might be tempted to say no. He might be tempted to say no because this is ridiculous, he’s known Louis for all of ten minutes he shouldn’t want to meet up with him again. He shouldn’t want to talk to him more and he shouldn’t want to spend the next morning with him because that is insane.  
But then Harry recalls the conversation he had with Zayn prior to dinner. Zayn telling Harry to be himself on this trip and to figure out the rest in America. To enjoy his trip, in the least.  
And if he enjoyed Louis’ company, then maybe being himself was a bit insane.  
Brilliant Zayn and his brilliant words.  
“Not at all,” Harry agrees, and his shoulders relax as Louis’ eyes crinkle. “So, tomorrow?”  
Louis sticks out his hand, and Harry just stares at him puzzled until he gets it. He wraps his own pinky finger around Louis’.  
“Tomorrow,” Louis agrees.  
*  
“What was that for?” Harry asks as they head back inside, wiping a bit at his runny nose.  
Ila turns to look up at him, and for the first time Harry gets why his mum doesn’t see why Harry wouldn’t be attracted to her. She seems bright and sunny, nothing like the girl Harry thought she was. Though he’s still about as attracted to her as he is to his sister, Gemma.  
“You were smiling,” Ila answers simply, cheeks red with cold. “I haven’t seen you smile like that ever. I mean, you smile around Zayn but…”  
“That’s absurd,” Harry cuts in. “You do realize that is absurd, right?”  
Ila just shrugs. “You aren’t in England,” she tells him and Harry wants to say something a bit rude but doesn’t. “And you aren’t in America yet. Just pretend that this ship is suspended between the two and nothing can get you here.”  
He watches her profile for a moment as they walk. Finally he asks, “Have you and Zayn been meeting up behind my back?”  
“We have little meetings every Monday,” she responds, her tone light and teasing. This is a new Ila, not anything like the one he thought he knew. Maybe she’s actually pretty decent.  
“Just..” She’s gone a bit serious again. “I don’t want to be the reason for your unhappiness, believe it or not.” She huffs once, blowing hair from her eyes. “I get we aren’t getting out of this marriage since both our parents seem so determined for it to work out. But I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are, alright?”  
Harry is silent for a minute before responding. “I don’t blame you, okay?” Which, admittedly, might not be hundred percent true before, but now it is. “And.. Thanks.”  
Ila simply shoves him lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”  
*  
When Louis makes it back to the General Room, he may or may not be skipping slightly. Maybe just a tiny bit.  
Niall notices the shift in his best mate’s mood instantly, setting his beer down on the table while Liam just watches with mild curiosity.  
“I would say you couldn’t have had enough time to shag anyone while you were gone, but knowing you you probably found a way,” is all Niall says, instantly raising his eyebrows. “So who’s the unlucky bloke who had to grit his teeth and suck it up?”  
Louis flips him off before dropping onto the bench, sandwiched between the two. “For the record anybody on this planet, male or female alike, would be delighted at the prospect. But no,” he says, grinning. “Haven’t shagged him. Yet.”  
Niall tilts his head back and laughs while Liam just frowns a tiny bit into the spout of his beer bottle.  
“You’re into blokes?” Liam asks curiously and Louis gazes over at him a bit wearily, mentally preparing himself.  
“Yeah, and?”  
Liam just shrugs, taking another swig of beer. “Nothing. Just curious, is all.”  
Louis relaxes back into the warmth of Niall’s side, curling and uncurling his fingers in an attempt to warm them up again.  
“Alrighty then. But yes, I did meet someone. Quite a someone, if I do say so myself.” Louis reaches over, snagging Niall’s drink from his hands. Niall makes a sound of protest in the back of his throat that Louis chooses to ignore. “And I’m meeting said someone back on the deck tomorrow morning. Whenever that is. Shit, he’s posh so… Does that mean I’ll have to get up early?”  
Niall shrugs, reaching for his beer but Louis just moves it out of his reach. Niall sighs heavily. “Dunno mate, maybe? And what do you mean by posh?”  
Louis knocks back a drink quickly, relenting and handing the bottle back to Niall.  
“I mean he looked pretty fancy.” Louis shrugged. “Sounded posh even. Had a sister or something wearing a necklace that would feed us for the rest of our lives. Not that I noticed.”  
“‘Course not, ya filthy gold digger.”  
Liam interrupts before Louis can come back with something clever.  
“So is he first class, then?” Liam asks curiously. “I work those decks, maybe I’ve seen him around.”  
Louis simply shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe? He’s tall and curly.” When Niall stares at him oddly Louis sighs and then clarifies, “His hair is curly, Ni.”  
Niall lets out a faint ‘ohhhhh’ while Liam tries to think.  
“Seen about a bunch of curly haired lads today, I reckon. Don’t really know if I’ve seen him or not.”  
“Didn’t really expect you to,” Louis answered honestly, playing with a loose thread on his jacket. “But enough talk of me and young Harold. I bet I could beat you both easily at Go Fish.”  
*  
Louis is eating a banana and teaching a little boy to whistle when Harry finds him.  
Harry had expected things to maybe be a bit weird or awkward, and there was one point where he almost didn’t want to go. He was certain Louis wasn’t going to show and he’d just embarrass himself with trying but Zayn had physically pulled him out of bed.  
Harry had explained it all to Zayn in a rush when he got back to their room. Zayn made him retell it though, slower, and Ila stood over his shoulder, urging him to explain in more detail. When Harry had invited Ila into his and Zayn’s room, Anne had been delighted. She figured Harry and Ila were finally growing fond of each other. She was half right.  
When Ila had left Zayn pressed for even more details, squeezing as much as he could from those mesely fifteen minutes Harry had spent with Louis. In the end, they both had fallen asleep sitting up on Harry’s bed, Zayn’s head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry’s head resting on Zayn’s own. They had woken with terrible cricks in their necks.  
But here Harry was, dressed in his most casual clothing as he searched through unfamiliar faces to find Louis’. Harry hadn’t overlooked Louis’ threadbare jacket or the scuffing on his boots and he would have felt guilty for wearing anything too extravagant or expensive. Like he was rubbing his wealth in Louis’ face, no matter how quickly it was dwindling away to nothing.  
He caught sight of Louis two seconds before Louis saw him, and he had just enough time to grow a bit fond at the look on Louis’ face as he talked to a small boy of about six or seven. Harry had a feeling Louis had more than few quirks Harry might find appealing or in the least amusing. It was terrifying and Harry liked it somewhat.  
“Ah, Harold!” Louis called out, smile wide and his sharp teeth on display. He turned his attention back to the little boy briefly, ruffling his hair before straightening up and winding his way towards where Harry stood at the edge of the crowd.  
“Glad you didn’t skip out on me, would have been rude,” Louis told him as soon as he was in arm’s length. He was positively radiating cheerfulness and it was more than a bit infectious. “Would have woken up at this ungodly hour for nothing.  
“It’s ten,” Harry pointed out, not sure where Louis had in mind when he started walking but following just the same. “Ten isn’t early.”  
“It is for me,” Louis retorted. “One man’s normal is another man’s insanity. Or whatever.”  
Harry nodded in agreement. “Very true.”  
After a moment or two of awkward silence, of just the two walking side-by-side and listening to the mundane noises of those around them, Harry spoke up again.  
“So, where exactly are we going?” he asked curiously, watching as Louis played with one of his braces slightly. It was considerably warmer out then it had been the previous night and Harry didn’t feel in the least bit chilled. He was, however, slightly annoyed with the wind. It blew his hair in his face and brought along a smell not too familiar.  
“Dunno,” Louis responded honestly, shrugging his shoulders once before running his fingers through his hair.  
Harry snorted and at Louis’ look amended with, “You just seem like you know where you’re going, is all. You walk quickly.”  
Louis slowed down considerably until he was barely shuffling across the boards and causing a few irritated passengers to walk past him with a huff.  
“Is this better, kiddo? Perhaps you’re one of those old-at-heart fellows. Can’t keep up with us young folk, eh, gramps?” Louis teased, voice light and mocking which might have put Harry off if it were anyone else.  
Harry just grinned wider. “So have you decided I’m eight or eighty yet? I’m tired of not knowing just how old I am.”  
Louis laughed, picking up his pace to catch up to where Harry was. “You tell me. How old are you then, Harry?”  
“Eighteen,” Harry answered, ducking out of the way off a few crewmen running off to help with something or other. “And you?”  
“Twenty-two,” Louis answered, and almost without warning grabbed a hold of Harry’s hand and shoved him towards the closest open door.  
Harry stumbled, heart thudding a bit wildly at the sudden change in direction and demeanor. This is it, he thought to himself. I actually am insane and now Louis’ going to brutally murder me and toss my remains into the ocean. Wonderful.  
The room looked like it was a parlour almost, with plush chairs with floral designs and tea cups set on mahogany tables. It was completely deserted at this time of day, the only light filtering in from behind the cream-colored drapes drawn across the windows. The walls were embedded with intricate designs and somewhere nearby and clock ticked steadily. Perfectly quaint place to get murdered.  
Louis had shoved Harry underneath one of the windows, and he was crouching next to him with a smile on his lips. Harry opened his mouth to ask what they were doing when Louis shot out a hand and clamped it over his lips to shush him.  
“Sh!”  
Harry would have tried to lick the hand confinding him if it were Zayn’s, but the thought of licking Louis made his cheeks redden for some odd reason in an embarrassed blush. Thankfully, Louis didn’t seem to notice. After a moment or two of Harry’s legs and toes cramping, Louis drew one curtain aside and peeked out. When he felt satisfied, he let the curtain fall back and doused the room back into it’s hazy dimness.  
“He’s gone,” Louis breathed out steadily, allowing himself a giggle he had been trying so hard to suppress. “Now if I can avoid him for the rest of the trip-”  
“Who?” Harry asked curiously, taking in a deep gulp of air when Louis let his hand fall away completely.  
Louis waved his hand dismissively as if the man, whom he had so desperately hidden from, was nothing.  
“Just a man I cheated out a bit of money out of last night,” Louis answered nonchalantly, pushing himself up, almost languidly, back into an upright posture. Harry scrambled to follow suit. “He was a bit angry when he discovered the extra cards up my sleeve, but hey. I still won.”  
Harry blinked once. “Wait-You cheated money off a man?” He hadn’t meant to sound so appalled but he thought maybe that’s how it came out. Louis didn’t look bothered though, or perhaps he was quite good at hiding his emotions.  
“Yeah, but we all have to make a living somehow. Can’t all be born into it I’m afraid,” Louis said, completely unruffled. Maybe the statement was a bit of a jab at Harry’s status and Harry’s family, and Harry knew he should at least be a bit defensive. But he didn’t feel all that upset. It did feel oddly unfair in a way that Harry had thought about once before but never really dwelled on the topic.  
One look at Louis told him he most definitely should not be dwelling on the topic now, so he quickly shut his brain down and told himself to remain in the present. The present being with a very attractive boy who was planning on at least spending most of his morning with Harry. The present seemed pretty decent, all things considered.  
Harry nodded slowly, corners of his mouth dipping down into a small frown. “I suppose you are right.” He punctuated these words with a shrug.  
“Well,” Louis began almost before Harry was even done speaking. He swung his arm around Harry’s shoulders as they started from the room and Harry felt oddly pleased. Oddly, being the key word for he could not be merely pleased with Louis just yet. He actually had a rational pace as to how infatuations for him should slowly begin to creep up. Being with someone for not even a full hour did not set that pace.  
“At least one good thing came out of that.”  
Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noting his mischievous smile with an almost note of excitement. “And what’s that?”  
Louis turned to grin at Harry, nose scrunching up just the tiniest bit. “I know exactly where to take you now, young Harold.”  
Maybe rules didn’t have to apply while Harry was on the Titanic.  
Maybe rules didn’t have to apply with Louis.  
*

When Louis had seen Nick turn around the corner he had panicked. It was almost comical how Harry’s eyes had widened in surprise when Louis had shoved him into the closest room he could find. But while they had sat in silence, Louis’ heart pounding in his fingertips in a not-so unpleasant way, Louis had gotten an idea.  
Honestly, Louis didn’t know the first time he had ever actually been completely nervous. It was normally a mix of excitement and dread, all curled into one odd emotion. Being with Harry-or even the prospect of getting to spend a whole day with his lovely dimples and pink, pink mouth-gave Louis a similar feeling. It was something weird that settled in his belly and made his fingers twitch and his whole body buzz. It was weird.  
It felt pretty damn good, too, really.  
But while he had sat there and secretly-and least he hoped it was secretly-watched Harry out of the corner of his eye, he got an idea on what he and the boy could do. Or, at least, what they could do tonight after supper. That is, if Harry decided Louis deemed worthy of spending his whole day with.  
So, Louis had to find something at the moment. And of course he should be able to find something to do, he was on the world’s biggest and most luxurious ship of course. But the thing is, being third class didn’t exactly come with too many perks. Which is fine, Louis isn’t one to complain honestly, but it does put a slight damper on all the things he could do with Harry. Like swim in the first-class pool and see what that boy is hiding under his rumpled clothing.  
But no matter, Louis Tomlinson was not one to be brought down. Especially not by a hunk of metal and his lack of status. There was just no way.  
And Louis didn’t know anything about Harry! What if he choose something and the younger boy didn’t even like it in the slightest, then thinks Louis is completely boring and dull, which is most certainly a lie.  
This feeling, this feeling in this moment when Louis is walking Harry to a destination he has no clue of, this feeling is highly unpleasant. Louis could deal without this feeling for the rest of his life.  
Luckily, he runs into a solution in the shape of an overly excited Irish boy.  
“Lou! There you are, Liam is working and so is Josh so I have no one to talk to-” Niall stops short when he catches sight of Harry, and Louis can feel Harry’s shoulders stiffen under his arm. He wants to assure Harry that Niall is harmless, couldn’t even catch him if he ran for it with his leg and all, but he doesn’t. Simply beams at Niall so that Niall will beam back.  
“Niall, this is Harold. Harry, this is my court jester,” Louis introduces and Harry snorts as Niall rolls his eyes.  
“Not that I wouldn’t make a completely amazing court jester,” Niall huffs, extending his hand towards Harry to shake. “I’m Niall, the guy who actually can keep a steady job for longer than two weeks.”  
Louis mock-winces. “Harsh, man.”  
Harry grins, muscles relaxing as he reaches out and captures Niall’s hand in his own. Then Niall is yanking him forward and Louis laughs brightly as Harry chokes out a strangled cry of surprise.  
Niall envelopes Harry in a big hug and Louis remembers the first time he met Niall and had nearly gotten a kiss right on the mouth. Thankfully, Louis had broken that habit pretty quickly but Niall was still an over affectionate person with no one to bestow it upon. So Louis had to make do with the very touchy-feely best mate he had now.  
“Great to meet you,” Harry said politely when Niall finally let him go and Louis stifled a giggle when Harry sounded slightly winded.  
“Likewise.” Niall grins at him with all his teeth and all he has. Louis waves his hand at Niall to cut it off, not wanting Harry to be blinded on his watch after all.  
“Niall, did you need something? I was in the middle of a very important expedition with young Harry over here-”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Niall cuts off, seeming like he wants to roll his eyes again but thinks better of it. “Just looking for someone to share my loneliness with me. But nevermind, I’ll just find Cook or something. Maybe Tommy.”  
Louis has never heard these names before, and he should probably feel slightly affronted that his best mate has found other friends so quickly aboard the ship, but he’s truly delighted at the prospect. He can’t have a miserable Niall on his conscious while he’s trying to enjoy what time he has with Harry.  
“But if you have someone, how can you share loneliness if you’re not alone?” Harry asks, seem genuinely puzzled. Niall regards his thought with a small smile.  
“I’ll find a way,” is all he comes up with, lifting his shoulders a bit. “Tell Liam if you see him to get his arse down to the General Room as soon as he possibly can.” The last is directed towards Louis.  
Louis merely waves his hand at Niall again. “I will, though why I would be heading up to the first-class quarters I haven’t a clue.” Harry looks like he’s about to say something, but he must think better of it because he shuts his mouth quickly. Louis pretends he doesn’t notice. “But I’ll pass on the message if I see Josh around here. Make sure if you run into Nick, I fell overboard.”  
Niall laughs, winking once. “Will do.” And then he’s gone, following the steady stream of civilians back to wherever he came from.  
They start up again and Louis is starting to think he has some idea of a destination when Harry speaks up.  
“I think I like him,” Harry says after a moment’s thought, ruffling his own hair cutely. And yes, Louis thinks it’s very cute.  
Louis grins, fingers tugging a bit unconsciously at the fraying hem of his shirt. Louis doesn’t know why he constantly feels the need to wiggle his toes, crack his knuckles, or move his fingers, but he does. It’s quite annoying and not at all a conscious effort.  
“I think I like him too,” Louis replies, smile increasing when the corners of Harry’s lovely mouth quirk upward. Everything with Harry seems to be grins and then wider grins.  
They walk on for about two minutes, Louis finally having figured out where to go, when Harry breaks their silence once more.  
“Why do you want to go to America?” he asks, and he says this a little quickly, a bit like he had to work up the courage just to ask. Louis doesn’t want Harry to feel shy or uncomfortable around him, he really doesn’t. But how can you say that without saying it and sounding odd?  
Louis shrugs. “I suppose just like anyone else. New life and all that. Maybe find a job I can keep and maybe put my dramatic demeanor to good use.” He shrugs yet again. “Honestly, I wasn’t even coming aboard to begin with. Won the tickets off a lucky poker game.”  
Harry’s eyebrows lift. “Lucky game, eh? No cheating then?”  
Louis would feel like Harry was scrutinizing him if it weren’t for the small smile that played on the younger boy’s lips. God, Louis needs to stop thinking about this boy’s mouth.  
“Never said that,” Louis answers, reaching out to tug Harry gently out of the way of a bustling group of gentlemen, all looking in their late twenties. “So how about you?”  
Harry mimicks Louis’ earlier shrug. “Had no choice. Mum’s orders, really.”  
Louis nods understandingly at Harry’s tone. “Ah. That’s rough.” He would mention his parents are dead but that would seem like he was trying to one up Harry and he doesn’t want to do that. Just wants is to hear Harry talk more.  
And boy does he. Louis doesn’t know how it happens or where the time goes, but suddenly his stomach is growling a bit too loudly and Harry’s curls have lost a bit of their bounce, some even plastered to his forehead.  
“My feet hurt,” Louis comments after Harry’s finished telling another story-one even longer and spoken slower than the last. It was one about his sister and a rabbit, Louis thinks, and he feels bad for letting his mind wander but honestly. He has a good handful of days left with Harry anyhow, he’ll have plenty of time for more story telling. Wishful thinking.  
Harry tilts his head to the side, considering this. Somehow they had circled the ship, winding and twisting their way through corridors and around large hordes of people, until they were almost back to the place they had started.  
“Well, it is a bit after two in the afternoon so I could see why,” is Harry’s response, running his hands through his hair to in a way that only makes them look wilder. “Sorry for boring you with my stories.”  
Louis frowns, noting the hint of embarrassment lacing Harry’s words. “You weren’t boring me,” Louis answers, which was a truth in itself. Harry wasn’t boring Louis, no, Louis was quite too fond of this boy under the circumstances. Harry’s stories could be a bit tiresome, however. “I had a nice time listening to you. Getting to know someone is always the first step in a steady friendship.” He smiles when he catches a slight flash of a grin from Harry. “I’m only hoping I wasn’t so boring that you will decline my invitation to join me after dinner. Got something I think you’d find fun.”  
Harry nods his head almost instantly, and Louis feels like he should be embarrassed for him but he isn’t. He really isn’t.  
“Yeah, that’d be,” he swallows once. “great.”  
Louis grins so he can feel his eyes squint. “Great.”  
“Great,” Harry parrots, and just when Louis thinks this might turn into some game, someone is grabbing hold of Harry’s sleeve.  
It’s a boy with olive skin and black hair, and he looks worried. He’s also got cheekbones to rival Louis’ own, Louis notes, and makes a reminder to be envious of that later. But not now, when Harry looks like he’s either going to be sick or punch something or cry.  
“Zayn,” Harry stops the other boy mid sentence, holding up a hand. “Calm down, no need to shout, I’m right here. And alright, tell her I’m coming.”  
Zayn nods and then he seems to notice Louis, quirking up his eyebrows before something like realization dawns on his face. Louis thinks its quite odd.  
“Ah, so you’re Louis then I assume,” Zayn says in place of a formal greeting.  
Louis shoots Harry a pointed look, maybe a bit giddy at the prospect of Harry telling his apparent best mate Zayn about their seemingly insignificant little conversation last night. Harry pretends not to see it.  
“And you’re Zayn,” Louis greets, nodding his head in Harry’s direction. “Harold here has told much about you. Maybe a bit too much for my liking if I’m honest.”  
Zayn looks about ready to ask just what stories Harry has been telling when Harry finds it the perfect moment to cut in.  
“He’s joking,” Harry says before Zayn can ask anything, glancing at Louis in a way Louis guesses is supposed to be a ‘shut up’ look. “I have to go Louis, but tonight sounds wonderful. I’ll find you after dinner?”  
Louis nods, grinning. “General room. You can bring Zayn if you want, Niall is practically begging for another mate besides me and Liam.” And Tommy and Cook and whoever Niall has met on the ship, but Louis has decided not to be jealous so he’s not.  
“Sounds great,” Zayn agrees. “And I would love to stay and help you two work out the details of this little play date, but Harry’s mum is in hysterics.”  
And then Zayn is tugging Harry off to whatever first-class passengers do when their mother is throwing a fit and leaving Louis standing alone, with a big grin on his face.  
One’s thing for certain: winning those tickets was the best thing to ever happen in Louis’ dreary life.  
*  
When Harry’s mum leaves to let Harry wash and dress for dinner, Harry finally allows himself to collapse back onto the sofa.  
Zayn just stands in the middle of the room, looking a bit like he’s about to say ‘I told you so’, and Harry really doesn’t need that. He holds up a hand, silencing whatever was on the tip of his mate’s tongue.  
“I know, you told me,” Harry agrees, sighing loudly. He groans once, temples throbbing with a headache pounding behind his eyes. “I didn’t listen and I got what I deserved.”  
Zayn allows himself an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair and then across his face. He really needs to find a mate with less drama and parental issues, he thinks, because this is truly exhausting.  
He knows he won’t though.  
“I did tell you not to stay out past lunch,” Zayn finally decides on, crossing over and dropping himself down beside Harry. “I told you she’d be furious if you skipped lunch. ‘We were deciding on red velvet or vanilla!’”  
Harry manages a weak laugh at Zayn’s poke at his mum, mimicking a sentence she had uttered while yelling at him for being irresponsible and thoughtless of both her and Ila’s feelings. Ila stood in the doorway, rolling her eyes just about every twenty seconds and Harry had to wonder why he didn’t like her to begin with.  
“‘We couldn’t decide the exact color of my dress! I mean-you’re suit! Should it be black or dark black?’” he asks Zayn, voice shrill and nothing at all like his mother’s, but it coaxes a laugh from Zayn just the same.  
After a moment’s silence with nothing but the clock ticking away in the background, Harry finally lets out a deep breath of air. “Weddings are horrible.”  
Zayn doesn’t laugh at that though, just sort of grins a bit sadly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be thinking that if it was a wedding you wanted.”  
Harry nods, frowning just a bit. What if this whole experience ruined weddings for him forever? What if, by some miracle, both him and Ila get out of this and when Harry gets the chance to actually marry someone he loves, he finds it dreadful? He shakes the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell too much of that particular ‘what if’.  
He just needs to focus on surviving dinner so that he can see Louis’ again.  
Overall, the day had been exactly what Harry had needed. Something calm and mellow, but a good distraction to keep him from ripping his hair out. Louis hadn’t seem to expected anything out of Harry, which was new. Besides Zayn, everyone seemed to want something from Harry. Everyone knew who he was too, as he never met anyone without having a purpose for it. Louis was completely his choice. He could choose whether or not he saw Louis or what Louis knew about him. It was nice. Really nice.  
There was a knock on the door, and Harry tensed, expecting his mum but only Ila’s voice resounded through the thick wood.  
“Oi! Open the door, I know you two are in there!”  
Zayn grinned, pushing himself from the sofa and crossing over towards the door. “I’m starting to like her more and more,” Zayn murmurs, throwing Harry a smile over his shoulder.  
Harry feels inclined to agree.  
*  
Ila keeps kicking him under the table and Harry knows exactly why.  
He keeps glancing over at the clock, keeps fidgeting and only picks lightly at his dinner. He’s starving, honestly, hasn’t eaten since a meager breakfast that morning, but he’s too nervous. He’s excited too, yes, and wants dinner to be over quickly but nervous all the same.  
Anne must take his lack of horrified expressions as a good sign, because she keeps smiling as she talks to Ila-whom isn’t listening too attentively if she’s honest-about jewelry and color schemes.  
“Harry, can you please bring yourself to the present?” she snaps after a particularly long episode of Harry staring intently over her shoulder with his lip wedged between his teeth.  
Harry jolts from his stupor, nearly knocking his glass over which causes both Ila and Zayn to stifle a giggle. Harry feels his cheeks grow a bit warm and forces himself not to think about his obvious blushing.  
“Sorry, mum,” he apologizes instantly, automatically.  
Anne simply shakes her head, waving her fork a bit in what Harry assumes to be an expression of irritation. “Don’t know what’s gotten into you today. Sneaking off, missing lunch, and now daydreaming away and ignoring the rest of us.”  
“Sorry,” Harry murmurs after a beat of silence, unsure of what else there is to say. “Not feeling well today. Not myself.” Better. A better self.  
Anne doesn’t comment on the flimsy excuse, only turns her attention back to Ila. “So where were we?”  
“Should the trimming on the napkins match the roses,” Ila fills her in and Harry hides a smile behind his hand. He knows enough about Ila now to know that saying that must kill her. She finds the whole ordeal just as amusing and heinous as Harry himself.  
Zayn must be thinking the same thing because he shoots Harry a smirk, and he winces briefly after. Harry can only assume Ila saw.  
Yes, Harry is growing increasingly fond of this girl. He’d have to explain to Gemma all about how the horrendously boring silent mouse he thought he was engaged too is actually full of life and very sarcastic.  
Gemma.  
The thought of his older sister sends a wave of homesickness through him, so harsh and sudden he has to keep up an effort to keep his shoulders from wilting. Gemma was already married away, to a man with a decent amount of money Harry can only assume. They have a nice place back in England and Harry wishes she could have come but with her being already eight months in… Too great of a risk and too hard on her and the baby. No, Harry understood why she couldn’t have come even if she wanted to be here in the first place.  
And at that, Anne was rising.  
“Well, I’m not sure about you boys,” she began, stifling a yawn against her dainty hand. “But I am completely exhausted. Ila? Do you want to join me?”  
Harry sneaks a glance at Ila, who outwardly looks pleasant but Harry can tell by the stiffening of her shoulders and the slight frown on her lips suggest otherwise.  
“Actually,” Harry starts before Ila can. “I was hoping Ila and I-and Zayn of course, could all maybe have a talk together. You know. Bonding.”  
Anne looked like she was both pleased and a bit upset that her invitation was declined, but all the same. Harry and Ila actually spending time together! A large accomplishment in her eyes.  
“Alright,” she sighed, and turned a stern gaze onto Harry. “Do not be out late. I’m going to be checking up on you two boys before ten and you both better be in there. And Ila, please do not stay out too late dear.”  
Ila smiled at Anne, flashing her teeth. When Anne finally left the room in a rustle of skirts and blinking ornaments, Ila turned her smile onto Harry.  
“Thank you,” she breathed, slouching slightly in her seat. “Honestly, I do like your mum. She’s very… enthusiastic. But I can’t stand her gossip.”  
Harry barked out a laugh as Zayn giggled. “That bad huh?” he asked, elbowing Harry hard in the ribs. “  
Harry swatted his arm away, still smiling. He was going to go do… Well honestly, Harry didn’t know what they were doing. But he was going to see Louis again, and that in itself sent a thrill up his spine. Which is. Dumb. Really dumb and inappropriate but.  
Whatever. Harry’s done trying to convince himself he doesn’t at least enjoy Louis’ company. His carefree and laid back attitude. Him in general.  
“Alright, let’s go.”  
*  
Harry and his crew stick out like a sore thumb.  
Louis had already explained to Niall and Liam about his day with Harry, and while Niall asked for all the juicy details (though there was none to tell) Liam just picked at his food with a small smile on his face. Maybe they weren’t close enough yet, Louis decided, shrugging it off.  
When Louis saw Niall’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, he swiveled around in his seat to see what he was staring at. He let out a whoop when he saw Harry, shoving his beer bottle into Niall’s hand and pushing himself up to go greet them.  
Louis instantly recognized the other boy from earlier-Zayn, Louis recalled-but he didn’t know who the girl was. She looked familiar and it took him a moment to recognize her as the girl who had set up their whole arrangement in the first place. Was she Harry’s sister?  
“Harry!” Louis greeted when he was within earshot. “And Zayn,” he added, nodding at the boy who smiled back in return. “And I don’t know you’re name, love.” His gaze settled on the girl beside Harry, instantly liking her easy smile and wide eyes. She was pretty, to say the least.  
“Ila,” the girl introduced, reaching a hand out almost unconsciously for Louis to shake. Or was he supposed to kiss it? Was that only for royalty?  
Louis chose just to shake her hand.  
“Pleasure,” Louis greeted. Well then, she wasn’t Harry’s sister. He had called her ‘Gem’ in his stories. Louis batted away his curiosity before it could get the better of him. Better to stick to thoughts that weren’t going to make him jealous. Because Louis’ totally not the jealous type. Right.  
“Well,” Louis began, clapping his hands together. “I’m sure you are all completely dying to stand around in the lowly common room, but I have bigger and better plans.” He grinned impishly, turning to look over his shoulder.  
“Niall!” he yelled loudly, loud enough for the boy to start and nearly slosh both their beers over himself. “Get Liam! We’re going!” He bit back the urge to yell ‘And all your other friends!’. But he isn’t jealous. Nope.  
Niall and Liam are by his side within seconds and he beckons them all forward, opting to do introductions when they're out in the relative quiet of the halls.  
“Niall and Liam, this is Zayn, Harry, and Ila,” Louis introduces, gesturing at each in turn once they are finally away from the loud din. He does the same from the others, and he smiles when they all exchange handshakes and greetings. This is a group he could get used to.  
“Hope you all like parties.”  
*  
About twenty minutes in, Niall is shitfaced and Zayn is apparently well on his way. Liam seems to be more playing it up, though, seeing as he has work in the morning. Ila disappeared a few minutes ago, laughing hysterically into her drink. Her hair had fallen from it’s complicated looking bun she had lost her uncomfortable shoes when she started to dance around with a group of young children.  
Harry, however, never left Louis’ side.  
“Alright, you ready to help me reel in some cash?” Louis asks after taking a deep swig of his beer and setting it down on the table in front of him.  
The room is tucked down into the ship and it’s musky and the air’s a bit humid. Laughter rings everywhere along with the pounding music and sounds of chatter and shouting. Louis feels exhilarated, the songs bouncing off the walls and making his fingertips buzz. Harry looks to feel the same, by what Louis can go by. His eyes are wide and bright, his smile easily slouched onto his lips and his curls a bit tangled. Louis thinks he looks brilliant.  
“Is that all you want me for?” Harry pouts, running his finger around the lip of his bottle. “The money?”  
Louis grins, rolling up his sleeves a bit and flexing his fingers. “Always. But I have one very serious question.” He waits until all of Harry’s attention is focused on him. “Who, currently in this room, do you think you could take down in a fight?”  
And Louis doesn’t make him fight of course. Although Harry does beat a few people at an arm wrestle and wins a fair amount of cash, handing it all off to Louis like it’s nothing. His head bobs along with the music and his eyes look a bit unfocused, and Louis wonders briefly if that’s Harry third or fourth bottle.  
“Lou, no more,” Harry is whining, but he’s giggling as he does and Louis feels a bit warm from the nickname that slides so easily off Harry’s tongue. “I can’t do it anymore, just want to dance.”  
Louis perks up at that, pushing himself up off his chair and shooing off the small crowd that had gathered to watch the arm wrestling. They don’t grumble as they disperse, opting for going to find something else to entertain themselves with. Louis likes them a lot.  
“Well then come on, Haz,” Louis teases, mock-impatience lacing his words. “Leaving a perfectly eligible dancing partner waiting. Rude.”  
Harry grins in return at the pet name, shoving himself up onto his feet. He sways for just a moment before shaking his head, trying to sober himself up.  
“Could probably use a glass of water,” Harry murmured, almost to himself as Louis tangles their fingers and drags him towards the middle of the room where everyone is dancing.  
“No you don’t,” Louis assures him, pressing his thumb into Harry’s hand. “You’re perfectly fine Harry. Do whatever you want, be drunk.”  
Harry snorts, rubbing at his nose with his freehand. “You act like I’ve never been totally smashed before.”  
Louis looks at him over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow questioningly.  
“Alright, maybe not this bad,” Harry admits as they finally stop on the edge of the churning sea of people. “But I have been drunk before, I’ll have you know.”  
Louis grins, patting Harry’s cheek. “I’m very happy for you. Now shut up and dance with me.”  
Harry’s cheeks go pink for a moment as Louis grabs ahold of his hand and he settles his own hand on Louis’ waist. “I don’t know-” Harry starts nervously and Louis laughs.  
“Neither do I!” he admits, yelling to be heard over the noise. “Just go with it! I’ll lead.”  
And then Louis’ dragging him along, turning and twirling and dancing and laughing. And at first Harry’s not totally into it and he stumbles, which is understandable because he can barely walk straight even sober. But quickly the music and the noise and the fun catch up to him and laughter is bubbling up past his lips.  
“God, Louis,” Harry gasps out for no particular reason beside the fact he wants to, fingers digging into Louis’ hip. “Slow down!”  
Louis just throws his head back and laughs until his stomach hurts and he can barely keep his eyes from tearing up. He twirls Harry some more, absolutely crowing in encouragement when Harry catches on and matches his steps.  
Louis doesn’t want it to ever end.  
*  
If Harry ever has to let go of Louis’ hand, it’ll be too soon.  
Finally they had to stumble away from the crowd, both of their feet throbbing and fingers numb from where they clutched at each other. But still. It has been the best night of Harry’s life by far, and the fact that Louis still hasn’t tried to unlink their fingers since they left the floor makes it even better.  
Remembering he has a whole trip with Louis ahead of him makes his chest tighten in anticipation. He has days to spend with Louis, opts not to think about what will happen after. Doesn’t want to ruin what he’s got going now.  
“God, Harold, you have two left feet,” Louis complains when they collapse back into seats. Louis grabs a glass at random, tilting his head back and downing it in one gulp. His fingers never stray from Harry’s own. “I think I’m going to wake up with at least two toes missing. At the very least!”  
Harry snorts, debating whether or not he should go for another round. Probably not. He’s already positive he’s going to have a massive hangover tomorrow and his mother is going to scold him for it, but honestly, he doesn’t care. If this is what he gets for having a good time, then so be it. He can deal with his mother’s yelling.  
Shit, his mother.  
“Louis?” Harry asks suddenly, eyes wide and heart beginning to beat furiously in his chest. “What time is it?”  
Louis snorts once through his nose, probably about to make some smart remark about him being the bloody billionaire who could at least afford a watch, but when he looks at Harry’s face he swallows it back.  
“Why? Um, I think Liam might have a watch on him-” Louis begins, eyes searching frantically for some of his friends when Harry catches sight of Ila. Sweet,sweet amazing Ila.  
“Ila!” Harry yelled as loud as he could manage, watching as she instantly snapped around, dropping the hand of the boy she had been dancing with. Or no, actually, that’s Niall. Harry chooses to ignore this, waving a hand at her, asking her to get over her right now.  
“Yeah, Harry?” she asks when she is close enough, tucking a loose stray of hair behind her ear.  
“What time is it?” he asks and Ila visibly freezes, every muscle tense.  
“Shit!” she yells, exasperated as she fumbles with the locket around her neck. She clicks it open, checking the time inside. Louis whistles behind Harry in a way that must say ‘That girl can wear time around her neck, wow’.  
“It’s almost midnight!” she yells, voice loud and full of anxiety. “Your mum must be so worried!”  
Harry snorts, but he’s already scrambling up. He finally releases Louis’ hand, fingers cold. “More like she’s plotting the different ways to make my murder look like an accident. Find Zayn!”  
So Ila takes off, grabbing Niall on her way and filling him in on what’s going on and just how important it is she finds Zayn in record time. This leaves Harry with a very confused Louis.  
“Louis, I had such an amazing time tonight and I wish I could stay longer but,” Harry begins, trying to prepare a big apology in his head quickly but Louis simply nods his head once.  
“Yeah, I get it, go,” Louis says immediately, reaching out and squeezing Harry’s hand once, almost as if for good luck. “You have you’re mum to deal with, I get that. Promise you’ll see me tomorrow, though?” The last request is accompanied with a small grin, and underneath that, something a bit off. Is Louis… Nervous?  
“Yeah, definitely Louis,” Harry answers immediately, linking their pinky fingers together. “Promise.”  
Louis’ finger curls tighter around Harry’s, bright eyes shining up at Harry for a brief moment before he is being tugged away by Zayn whom is being dragged by Ila.  
It’s the last thing Harry sees and the only thing he thinks about while he’s scolded by his flustered, angry mum. But he thinks it worth it.  
*  
Harry wakes up with the usual crick in his neck, except this time Zayn’s cheek is pressed to his back.  
He blinks himself awake, shoving Zayn off towards the other side of the bed with a mild “tosser” thrown at him. Zayn grumbles a bit after, shifting under the blankets and pressing his cold feet to Harry’s bare shins. Harry finally throws his blankets aside with an exasperated sigh.  
“Fine, you win!” he yells irritably, stalking off to go wake himself up with a good splash of cool water to the face.  
After both him and Zayn are just as awake as they are going to get, there’s a knock on the door. Ila, however, doesn’t wait for an answer and instead pushes her way into the room. Harry smiles over at her tiredly, temples throbbing with evidence of the night before, but it drops quickly when he sees the expression on her face.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Anne is furious,” Ila states, striding across the room. She’s already done up for breakfast, with her gown and fresh makeup. Ila, at least, doesn’t look like she had spent most of the night drinking and sweating. “She told me to keep both of you in check today. Which means, you’re both not allowed to leave her sight. At all.”  
Harry frowns. “She can’t really mean that. I promised Louis I’d see him today.”  
Ila flicks him lightly in the ear, shaking her head as if he’s an annoying puppy. “Do you think she knows that?”  
Harry shoots Zayn a look. “You can sweet talk her into letting me out, right?”  
Zayn frowns, running his tongue along his bottom lip once. “Don’t think so, but I can try. Don’t be dense, Harry,” he tacks on at the end, just to be a shit. “You know how stubborn your mum is, especially when she’s in one of her moods.”  
Harry groans, dropping his head onto the arm of the sofa.  
This is perfect, absolutely wonderful.  
During breakfast it’s a bit more tense that Harry would have hoped. Anne seems content pretending she isn’t ruining her son’s day, and instead chats animatedly with Ila and even a bit with Zayn about whatever she can think of.  
After breakfast Harry tried to slyly pry himself from the group, but Anne noticed and stopped him before he could get very far. After, Anne seemed to be trying to find any reason to keep Harry at her side and to keep him busy.  
He followed her around, trailing behind a bit and wondering what he had done to deserve this. After service, at around three in the afternoon, Harry thought he might start screaming. He hadn’t done anything all day but listen to her ramblings and even Zayn had ditched at the first possible moment he could.  
They were seated in a cozy looking tea room that reminded Harry very much of the one he had hid in with Louis from the man named Nick. Ila sat to his left and his mother in front of him, across from the small white table adorned with porcelain tea set. Soft, fluid music wafted from the violin player towards the front of the room and it was making Harry’s eyelids droop.  
Ila reached over, poking him lightly in the shoulder once so he jolted to attention quickly. “Yes?” he asked when he noticed his mother looking at him.  
“I said why don’t you please escort Ila back to her chambers? Haven’t you heard anything we’ve been saying?” Anne asked irritably, seeming bewildered as to why Harry had been dozing off. “Ila’s tired and doesn’t feel well. Be a gentleman and return her to her room and then come straight back here. I want to have a private conversation with you, just the two of us.”  
That didn’t sound tempting.  
Harry nodded once, leading Ila from the room. Once they were out on the deck, Ila sighed in relief.  
“God, has she stopped talking all day?” she asked tiredly, rubbing at her eyes briefly. “I don’t even have to lie about not feeling well, her ramblings have given me a headache.”  
Harry smiled briefly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward curtly. “That’s my mum for you.”  
They continued walking in relative silence, both tired from the day. “You should probably go meet up with Louis now,” Ila suggested once they had reached her room. She was standing half in and half out, leaning against the doorframe.  
Harry frowned, pushing his hair from his face. “Should I? It’s just.. Won’t that just be making matters worse? I sneak out now and I’ll probably be locked in my room for the rest of my trip.”  
Ila cocked her head to the side, thinking. “I suppose. Maybe if you just don’t come back for the…” She cut off at Harry’s incredulous look. “Okay, yes, that might be going a bit far. But… Why not just find Louis quickly and ask him to meet you in your room?”  
Harry blinked slowly. “My room? What is there to do in my room?”  
Ila grinned and Harry felt his cheeks go red before she answered, “I’m sure you’ll find something. Get your mind out of the gutter, I wasn’t even going to say anything about that. Actually, I much rather never even think about that.” She shook her head as if clearing the startling images.  
She smiled at Harry. “And you don’t have to stay there all night, obviously. Just until Anne is satisfied.”  
Seemed like a good enough plan, if Harry was honest. “But how will I find Louis?”  
Ila grumbled, pulling at the chain around her neck. “Fine! If you want me to do all the work, I’ll go searching for him. Tell him you’ve been busy all day and to meet you at your room at say… whenever?”  
Harry was going to protest, was going to tell Ila she really should rest but she insisted. Finally he relented, nodding once. “Fine. Now, I have to go. Mum is probably wondering where I am.”  
Harry was about to turn the corner when he looked back over his shoulder, calling out a loud, “Thank you!” to Ila who was heading in the opposite direction. She smiled at him briefly before disappearing into the next hall, in pursuit of Louis.  
Harry hoped this would work.  
*  
Louis darted around the corner, smothering his laughter into the sleeve of his shirt. Grimshaw was hot on his tail, bellowing something about wanting his money back or something just as ridiculous. Louis was catching his breath in one of the halls that lead lower into the ship, grinning like a madman. Sure, Louis was frightened by the man. Frightened by what the man might do if he caught hold of him. But Louis was also enjoying himself because he had no intention of getting caught.  
“Let it go!” Louis yelled back down the hall he had come from, hearing Nick pause in his footsteps for a moment before they turned in his direction.  
Louis ran, laughing brightly to himself as Nick bellowed out, “You cheated me, Tomlinson!”  
Louis just kept running, grabbing open a door at random and rushing inside. It was a storage closet of sorts, and he crouched down behind a few boxes while he listened intently to the sounds going on outside. He heard footsteps thunder past the room, and then they began to fade and were gone.  
Louis sat crouched in the closet for a moment longer, listening to himself breathing before finally standing and poking his head back out into the hall. He yelped when he saw Nick standing at the end of the hall, back to him and peering out into the other hall.  
Nick must have heard because he turned swiftly, eyes landing on Louis who had already bolted from the closet and was turning to go back the way he had come.  
Louis heard Grimshaw yell something at him, probably calling him a rotten thief or of that variation, but he just ignored him and kept running.  
He ran until he was near the General Room and he was colliding with someone right in the hall. Someone with a high yell and colorful skirts.  
“Ila!” Louis gasped, out of breath from running and straining to hear for Nick’s approach. “What are you doing here? Come to explain why Harry’s standing me up?”  
Ila rolled her eyes, accepting Louis’ hand to help her up off the floor. “Actually, here to explain but I sort of want to hear your story first. Why are you running?”  
Louis glanced over his shoulder quickly, listening. “Um, won a poker game not-so fair and square and one of the blokes is a bit put off. He’s been trying to hound my arse the whole time I’ve been on this boat.”  
Ila let out a short laugh, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Well I know the perfect place for you to hide. Follow me.”

Turns out, Harry hadn’t meant to stand Louis up, which was a relief in itself. Ila explained how he was basically being held prisoner by his mum and had tried to get away to no avail. She also explained that Louis could make himself comfortable in Harry and Zayn’s room and that Zayn would be there to keep him company until Harry could escape back to their room.  
Louis quite liked that idea, thanking Ila repeatedly before she finally pushed the door open and ushered him inside.  
Zayn was sprawled across one of the couches, book in his hand and cup of tea perched on the table beside him. He looked up when they entered, closing his book and sticking his finger in to mark his page.  
“Louis, Ila,” he greeted brightly, grinning. “Harry isn’t here yet-”  
“I know,” Ila interrupted. “Louis’ just going to be here until he can get back. Also, to hide because he’s a filthy criminal.”  
“I disagree with that claim,” Louis protested quickly but Ila was already moving away.  
“You boys have fun, I’m overdue on a nap.” And then she was gone, leaving Louis and Zayn to stare at each other in a bit of an awkward silence.  
Finally Zayn broke the tension, stating, “You can sit down you know.”  
Louis nodded once, plopping himself down onto the chair opposite Zayn and trying to get comfortable.  
“You know, I kind of expected this to be softer.”  
Zayn rolled his eyes, setting his book down on the table and propping himself up against the arm of the sofa.  
“You sound just like Harry,” he complained, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?” he asked, holding the pack out in Louis’ direction.  
“Yes please,” Louis thanked happily, reaching over to pluck one out. Once his was lit he muttered, “Harry told me he didn’t like when people smoked. How can he stand sharing a room with you?”  
Zayn shrugged, blowing out a smoke ring. “He doesn’t stand it very well. Always complaining about it, such a baby.” He was grinning. “His nose is all sensitive so the slightest odd smell can set him off.”  
Louis snorted, settling the cigarette between his lips. “Then how can he stand it up here? There’s smoke and too much perfume and the flowers have got to be sprayed with something. No flower smells like cinnamon for Christs’ sake.”  
Zayn laughed loudly, throwing his head back a bit. “Honestly, though. I think I smoke more to drown out all the other smells.”  
Louis nods his head, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “I don’t blame you! At least in mine and Niall’s cabin it’s relatively smellless. Unless all of us have decided not to bathe that day, then there’s that. It’s hard to fit everyone in though, considering the one bath problem.”  
Zayn’s eyes widen. “You guys only have one bath? For that many people? No wonder you look filthy!”  
Louis scoffed, feigning hurt. “I can not believe you just told me that. I do not look filthy! Maybe you should stop putting so much gunk in your hair-”  
“Do you want me to look like I just rolled out of bed?” Zayn inquired, batting the smoke from his face with his hand.  
They bantered for a while, until both began complaining of hunger and they got something to eat as they waited. Louis was in the middle of explaining to Zayn just how lockpicking worked when the door handle jiggled.  
“Get ready to bolt if he’s with his mum,” Zayn muttered quickly, but when the door finally opened it was only Harry. A very tired looking Harry, but still Harry just the same.  
“Glad you got away, Harold,” Louis greeted when Harry shut the door, kicking his feet up onto the couch.  
Harry perked up at the sound of Louis’ voice, and Louis couldn’t help but grin at that. “Me too. Hallo Zayn, sorry for leaving you with the difficult task of entertaining Louis for so long.”  
Zayn smiled as Louis crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to shoot something back with a wittier remark, but Harry was already talking over him.  
“Let’s go then. I need someone to vent to and get my mind off things.”  
Louis shoved himself up off the chair, clapping Harry soundly on the back. “Well then, I’m just your man. Thank you, sir Zayn, for keeping me company. It seems that young Harold has troubles only myself and alcohol can solve.”  
Louis tipped his imaginary hat at Zayn, who tipped his back, and then was dragging Harry out of the room with a pleased smile on his face. He dropped their hands when they made it out to the hall, glancing up at Harry. “I like Zayn, you know,” Louis said as Harry rubbed at his temples, no doubt from a headache. “He’s a very good listener.”  
Harry nodded, smiling just a bit. “He can be, at times. You must have caught him at a good time. Don’t want to see him when he’s angry.”  
“What, does he get so angry he hits a pillow and then apologizes to it?” Louis asked, trying to keep his tone light.  
Harry nodded, and they lapsed into silence. When they finally broke out into the cool air of the evening, the sun turning the sky and ocean and mix of yellow and orange and pink, Louis finally broke it.  
“Alright, tell me what’s up,” Louis started, leaning back against the railing of the boot. “Somethings off, obviously, and I want to know. Lay it on me.”  
Harry sighed, leaning over the edge of the bar and dropping his head down slightly. It reminded Louis of how they had first met, when Harry had basically been balanced between life and death. It had only been two days ago. Had it really only been two days ago?  
Harry took in one more deep breath before swiveling his head to look at Louis, his hair tumbling down into his eyes. The setting sun sent rays of light playing across his face, making him look older and a bit more gaunt. With the fiery sun haloing his hair and lighting up his face, Louis was struck with how beautiful Harry was which. Okay.  
“I’m getting married,” Harry finally settled on, spitting the words out like they were venom. Like he couldn’t wait to get the sentence over with.  
Louis’ jaw might have dropped, and his heart seemed to stop for a full second. Harry.. Getting married? For whatever reason, Louis felt like he was going to throw up.  
“Oh?” Louis managed, trying to force himself to look more concerned than whatever he was feeling now.  
Harry seemed to physically have to pull himself together, straightening his shoulders and stiffening his muscles. He nodded mutely, staring off towards the sun and across the sparkling waters. His breath clouded around him, the oncoming night bringing an unpleasant chill.  
“Yeah. To Ila.”  
Louis frowned. Honestly, he could see Ila’s appeal. She was pretty, sweet, and was full of personality. But.. How had he not noticed before? He had thought they were related for Christ’s sake!  
“Then shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Louis asked, trying to keep his tone high and cheerful, even when his insides withered in dread.  
Harry shook his head, curling his fingers into his jacket. “No. Because I don’t want it and neither does she.”  
At Louis’ confused expression, Harry finally relented. He explained the whole thing, back to when the funds started running low after his father’s death up until now. How his mum had tried and failed to find a suitable husband herself, and when that failed realized she had a perfectly eligible son. How he had known for three months that his trip to America would be his death sentence, how he hadn’t even liked Ila up until the trip began. How he felt like ripping his hair out all the time and how he didn’t think he could stand living life the way his mother had set up for him. How he didn’t want to know exactly what his life was going to be like.  
When he finally finished, throat aching from trying to keep back his tears, he was too afraid to look at Louis. He stared determinedly at the dark horizon, since the sun had set in the midst of his rambling. Louis had stayed silent the whole time, only nodding an encouragement whenever Harry looked hesitant. Harry was so worried with thinking what Louis must think of him-poor little rich boy and his poor little rich boy problems-that he nearly jumped when he felt a hand cover his own on the rail.  
He finally risked a glance at Louis, taking in his soft angles in the murky darkness. The soft lights from the deck helped almost none and Harry had to concentrate to keep his shape visible in the darkness. He could see the jut of his chin, the angular shape of his cheekbones, the soft sweep of his lashes when he blinked. How Harry could feel so comfortable dumping all this onto Louis, a boy he had met two days ago, was beyond him. He shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have-  
“Harry?” Louis asked, voice quiet though Harry didn’t know why. They were the only one outside with in hearing distance, so he knew Louis wasn’t worried about being overheard.  
Harry swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, Louis?”  
“If I kiss you, promise Ila won’t be mad?”  
Shocked and nervous laughter welled up in Harry’s throat and bubbled past his lips, and he managed a curt shake of his head before he felt Louis’ lips pressed to his own.  
Louis’ mouth was gentle against his own, the curve of his lips pressed against Harry’s own. Louis tasted like the fruit he must have eaten with Zayn and Harry wanted more but didn’t dare move any further for fear of scaring off Louis.  
After what felt like eternity but must have only been a few seconds Harry felt a hand on the back of his neck and fingers wrapping around his curls, burying themselves in the soft strands of his hair. They tugged once and Harry’s mouth fell open in a gasp that Louis licked into once before pulling away, breathing heavily against Harry’s still slightly agape lips. Harry noted in some delight that there seemed to be stars in Louis’ eyes.  
They stood in silence for a moment, both trying to understand what had just happened and Louis’ fingers still tangled in the hair at Harry’s neck. Finally Louis broke the silence, whispering, “Wanted to do that since the party last night when you stepped on my toes for the fifth time.”  
Harry giggled softly, burying his thumb into Louis’ side and making him wince slightly.  
“Tosser,” Louis grumped, but even in the dark Harry could tell he was smiling. “I take my kiss back. You don’t deserve it until you're nicer.”  
Harry laughed softly, more of a nervous puff of air than anything. “Why did you kiss me then?” And then Harry was gripped with the sudden nauseating fear that Louis had kissed him simply out of pity. Poor little rich boy, maybe I should give him a little kiss to make him feel better. And to shut him up.  
But Louis only shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”  
And he left it at that.  
Louis tugged him along behind him, weaving his way around a few third-class passengers hanging around the deck and chatting quietly. He saluted when he passed a group of the crew, and one even smiled and saluted back. He didn’t glance twice at Louis’ hand wrapped around Harry’s own, didn’t seem to care.  
*  
After much insisting on Louis’ part, they stopped for some dinner. Harry’s stomach kept grumbling as he had faked an illness to get out of dinner, though really it hadn’t been all that difficult and he could only make himself feel slightly guilty.  
Niall and Liam were both in their own corner, Niall talking animatedly about something while Liam listened with what looked like rapt attention. Harry couldn’t help but feel amused as they approached, watching as Niall swung his fork in the air for emphasis.  
“-I’m just saying that if they didn’t want someone to do it they could put up a sign,” Niall was rambling as Harry pulled out a chair for Louis, who looked at him like he was ridiculous before sitting down. Harry sat at the chair across from him and almost instantly felt Louis hook his feet around his ankles.  
“All I’m saying,” Liam began, stabbing at his food. “is that they shouldn’t even have to put up signs for that in the first place.”  
“So what are we talking about?” Louis asks, cutting Niall off from what would probably be a very half-assed attempt at a retort. Liam starts to explain but Louis raises his hand before he can finish. “You know what, forget it. I don’t want to know.”  
Harry smiles as Liam shrugs and Niall grins into his food. He shifts toward Louis and Harry catches him wince, causing him to frown.  
“Hey Ni, you okay?” Harry asks curiously, furrowing his eyebrows together. He hasn’t really picked at his own food yet and his stomach growls once to remind him.  
Niall nods, but his mouth is set in a tight grimace. “Never better, Harold. Just an old knee injury bugging me is all,” Niall explains, eyes lighting up as he jokes. “Better not plan on throwing me overboard, couldn’t swim for the life of me. Sorta miss it.”  
Harry nods his sympathy, and then Niall and Louis lapse into easy conversation together. Harry tucks in, finishing off his his food quickly and listening to Liam as he talks about his day and complains about rude passengers. After a while Louis had to uncurl his feet from around Harry’s ankles, the muscles cramping, but he still nudges at his toes every now and again. It’s nice, very nice, and probably the highlight of Harry’s day. After kissing Louis, of course.  
Harry finally finishes his dinner and he’s enjoying himself nicely. He feels drowsy with a full stomach and the soft drone of chatter is lulling him to sleep, and before he knows it someone is shaking him awake.  
He blinks awake slowly, looking around with blurry eyes and a foggy mind until finally his gaze settles on Louis. He looks amused, like he’s trying not to laugh, but he’s staring at Harry with something that makes his fingertips tingle.  
“C’mon sleepyhead,” Louis says gently, hooking his hands under Harry’s armpits and hauling him to his feet. “Need to get you to bed.”  
Bed sounds nice, but Harry finds himself shaking his head. “Don’t want to go back to the room,” Harry croaks out, voice rough and scratchy from sleep and head still a bit fuzzy. “Zayn’s there. And my mum.”  
Louis stops once they’re out in the hall, seeming to contemplate something in his head. “Alright then, I have an idea,” he announces, grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand and tugging him along.  
Harry follows without complaint, stumbling only twice while his mind begins to clear and he starts to be able to walk properly. He doesn’t know where Louis plans on taking him, knows his room in third-class can’t possibly be big enough to fit all of them. Harry feels a sudden burst of shame at the thought. From knowing his room is plenty big or from the mere thought of Louis’ status he had no idea, but it settles into the pit of his stomach unpleasantly. Louis deserves more, Harry thinks. Louis deserves the moon and the stars and everything he wants.  
I would love to give it to him, too, Harry finds himself thinking, and the thought sort of shocks him. It isn’t like he hasn’t noticed how fond he is of Louis, or how much he loved kissing him, but he never really thought about any of it.  
But now he’s thinking, and he’s thinking about the soft texture of Louis’ hair and the curve of his back and how small his hands are, wrapped around two of Harry’s fingers. He finds himself thinking of Louis, louislouislouislouis, until suddenly said Louis is stopping.  
Harry nearly crashes into him, effectively ending his small crisis or ramble or whatever he was having in favor of finally paying attention to their surroundings. They’re low in the boat, very low, and Harry wonders if the engines are supposed to be making these noises and whether or not anyone actually thought to put any effort into the slight decorum. Which is. Absurd, why is Harry criticizing the decorations right now when Louis is right in front of him and he could be thinking about how Louis’ lips feel and taste against his own.  
Jesus.  
“Down here,” Louis explains, tugging open a door and Harry follows him easily.  
It’s a huge room, very huge, and Harry realizes it must be the storage unit, or at least one of them. There are boxes and suitcases and just things everywhere, all stacked upon each other. The lighting is slightly dim and Harry has to pay close attention to make sure he doesn’t tread on the back of Louis’ boots or knock over a few boxes.  
“Why are we here?” Harry asks, voice low for some reason he doesn’t know. It’s so silent in the room-and cold, slightly cold-and Harry finds himself unable to bring his voice above a loud whisper.  
“Sleeping arrangements,” Louis replies cheekily, waggling his eyebrows in such a way that makes Harry bark out a laugh, ultimately ruining the quiet effect of the room.  
And then Harry sees it and he feels excitement well in his chest.  
It’s a buggy, shiny and new and probably one of the latest models. Before the Styles had gone bankrupt, Harry’s mum had every intention of purchasing them their own self-operating automobile. She had always been a tad frightened of horses and this contraption seemed like something that was right up her alley. But that hadn’t exactly worked out.  
“Ta-da!” Louis says happily, sweeping his hand in front of the car. He bounds up, almost skipping in his pride, and swings the door open quickly. He bows low, staring up at Harry with his eyes crinkled. “After you, sir.”  
Harry giggles, trying to smother it into the back as his hand as he clamours rather ungracefully into the buggy, dropping back onto the plush cushions. He lets out another laugh, running his fingers along the upholstery.  
“Who even brings this with them to America?” Harry asks once Louis has joined him, leaning back against the opposite wall so he can look directly at Harry as he talks. “Wouldn’t you just buy one there? This looks brand new!”  
Louis laughs, throwing his head back against the wall. “You rich are an odd bunch, you know that,” Louis teases, reaching out and tugging at one of Harry’s curls. “With your odd accents and funny little ways. An odd bunch indeed.”  
Harry just crinkles his nose, grinning. “And you rebellious sort out there are strange as well! Trying to outsmart society, never fitting into a specific category. Tell me, Louis, what category do you fit in?”  
Louis leans his head against the seat, finger still wrapped around Harry’s hair. “I’m one of a kind, sweetheart,” Louis answers, tugging yet again, but gently.  
Harry doesn’t know why, but suddenly the air feels thicker. He is overly aware of his heart beating under his chest, and wonders if Louis’ has quickened in pace as well. Wants to press his palm to his shirt and find out, spreading out his fingers and to just touch every bit of Louis he can. The thought it overwhelming and Harry feels his cheeks burn as twists his fingers together in an effort to waste any nervous energy he has. But it doesn’t feel like nervous energy, not really.  
“Harry?” Louis whispers, voice gentle and sweet and everything Harry needed from the moment he woke up this morning. “I’m going to kiss you again, okay?”  
Harry nods mutely, fighting the urge to lick his lips nervously. And then Louis is everywhere. His lips against Harry’s, his arms around his neck.  
The position is awkward from how Louis was sitting before, but Harry doesn’t really care because Louis’ right here, and Harry gets the feeling that if he wanted all of Louis that’s exactly what he’d get.  
But he doesn’t try, because sure he wants all of Louis, but he also wants only what Louis is willing to give right now. And right now Louis is maneuvering himself into Harry’s lap, lips only breaking contact once and Harry sucks in a shuddering gasp before their covered again and Louis’ there and louislouislouis.  
Harry doesn’t realize how harsh his grip is on Louis’ waist is until the older boy winces slightly, pulling back and starting to pepper kisses down Harry’s neck. Harry tries to loosen his grip, tries to keep his eyes open so that he can just see Louis and know that this is actually happening, but a sharp pain at the base of his throat causes him to drop his head back and squeeze his eyes shut. He cuts of his moan quickly, and it’s only a soft choking noise by the time it makes it’s way past his lips.  
Harry can feel Louis grinning into his collarbone, knows how impishly he’s smiling and how smug he must be. But honestly, Harry couldn’t care less because this is actually happening and Jesus.  
“That’ll look an interesting color tomorrow,” Louis comments, voice a bit lower and Harry finds himself groaning.  
“You’re a shit,” he teases, digging his thumb into his hipbone. Louis wriggles in his lap, but he’s laughing.  
“I must be a very attractive looking shit then, if you’re willing to put up with me,” Louis comments, seeming not to notice the way the slight movement had affected Harry. Or maybe he’s only pretending he didn’t.  
“Extremely,” Harry agrees, swallowing hard.  
Harry could do this forever, could let Louis take whatever he wanted and eagerly give everything back in return, but his tiring day is catching up to him and right now all he wishes for is sleep.  
Luckily, Louis seems to read minds because he presses on last chaste kiss to Harry’s lips, soft and fleeting, before he’s falling back onto the seat. Louis grins up at Harry, teeth biting at his lip.  
“Bedtime?” he asks. “Even the posh need to rest.”  
Harry snorts, but nods his head all the same. He settles in beside Louis, letting the smaller boy curl into his chest. He wraps his arms around Louis waist, burying his face into Louis’ hair and inhaling once, softly.  
“G’night, Harry,” Louis whispers after a moment or two of silence in which Harry has only grown more exhausted.  
“G’night, Louis,” Harry whispers back, and he’s struck with the sudden desire to have this every night, to have Louis every night to say ‘goodnight’ to. He’s asleep before the thought can blossom into something more.  
It’s the last full night the Titanic will ever see.  
*  
Louis wakes up with a crick in his neck and someone’s cold nose pressing to the back of his neck.  
He blinks his eyes a bit, trying to clear the early morning drowsiness from his vision. It’s cold, very cold, but with Harry wrapped around him it’s almost bearable. Louis feels himself smile, has to bite down hard on his lip to try and contain it. He still can’t believe he actually kissed Harry and that Harry didn’t push him away. The thoughts of Ila and Harry’s impending wedding sit in his stomach sourly and leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he has decided to push them back to the dark corners of his mind. Besides, he’s never seen Harry give a slightest interest in Ila and they full on snogged last night so Louis thinks that perhaps he has a better chance.  
Which is. Which is a terrible way to think considering as soon as the boat docks they’ll be going their separate ways, Harry to be wed and Louis to do whatever comes next. But Louis’ never been one to like to dwell on such thoughts and shoves them away as well. He likes to live for the moment, and right now in that moment Harry is stirring beside him.  
Louis shifts as smoothly as he can, grimacing at the soreness in his lower back. Perhaps sleeping in the buggy hadn’t been the most comfortable option, but he had survived the night nonetheless. Harry’s blinking his eyes open, and Louis knows the exact moment Harry registers his face because a small smile spreads across his features.  
“Morning,” Louis whispers, finding his hand and tangling their fingers together. He squeezes once, and Harry squeezes back.  
“G’morning, Lou,” Harry greets, and Louis crinkles his nose as he’s hit with the pungent smell of Harry’s morning breath.  
“You smell bad,” Louis comments, nose still crinkled but now in mock disapproval.  
Harry laughs, trying to smother it into the side of Louis’ neck.  
“Sorry,” he mumbles, still smiling. “Does that mean I don’t get a morning kiss?”  
Louis tries his best to look contemplating, before he nods with a look of reluctance.  
He kisses Harry lazily, no matter the sour taste of their mouths, and it takes him a few hazy moments to pull back. Harry whines, eyes closed and fingers digging into the small of Louis’ back. Louis just laughs, tugging at Harry’s hair fondly.  
“There will be more after you you don’t taste so bad,” Louis promises and Harry sighs before opening his eyes.  
“For the record,” Harry begins, propping his head up with his hand. “I never would have said you smelled bad. Even though you do.”  
Louis just smiles. “I know, love.”  
*  
After Harry is able to sneak back into his room and fix himself up, he makes his way back to third-class and meets Louis in the Dining Hall.  
Louis already has a plate out in front of him, chatting idly with Niall with Liam no where in sight. He must be on duty, Harry thinks as he plops down across from Louis and bumps their feet together once.  
“Morning, Niall,” Harry greets and Niall nods at him through a mouth full of food.  
Louis’ plucking unconsciously at his braces, rubbing at the fabric. Harry thinks they quite suit him.  
“No morning for me?” Louis asks, lips drawn into a pout and eyebrows raised. His hair is a wild mess on his head, curling at the nape of his neck. Harry wonders if it’s possible Louis’ hair has gotten longer since the first day he met him.  
“Good morning, your highness,” Harry indulges, bowing as well as he can while sitting, quite dramatically.  
Louis nods, pleased. “You can be my court jester.”  
Harry frowns, running his hands through his curls. “Aren’t those the guys who make fools of themselves on purpose?”  
“Be happy you aren’t the town fool, that’s Niall,” Louis tries to comfort, reaching across the table and interlocking their fingers. He rubs his thumb across the skin of Harry’s hand, a content smile playing at the ends of his lips. Harry feels himself smiling back, then abruptly turns as Niall emits a loud groan.  
“God, will you two stop,” Niall grumbles, setting his fork down beside his empty plate. “I’m torn between going blind and vomiting. You’re sick.”  
Louis laughs, high and loud and Harry finds himself giggling as well. He didn’t know he was the giggling type until he met Louis, but then again he’s never had Louis around to find out.  
“Please, Niall,” Louis says, talking around his food. “Surprised you and Liam haven’t shagged yet.”  
Niall just snorts, rolling his eyes. “Like Liam is even my type.”  
Louis and Niall continue shooting off comments at rapid fire, both unable to drop the tangent. Harry just watches with mild interest, very content to just sit there with Louis’ hand in his for hours. It’s already two hours past noon, as they had both stayed in the storage room and talked for a while. And kissed, but mainly talked of course.  
When he had gotten to his room Zayn wasn’t there, probably off to lunch with Ila and his mum. Harry wonders if his mum even noticed his absence or if she’s more worried about what color roses will match her lipstick. He wonders if she’s worried.  
After a while Niall leaves to go find some of his friends and Louis suggests they go up to the deck so he can have a smoke and Harry can play with the children. Harry agrees instantly.  
“I love kids,” he says once they're out on the deck, swinging their hands obnoxiously between them. “Want to have a whole bunch when I get older, maybe twenty.”  
Louis laughs, shaking his head. “Twenty, eh? I love ‘em myself, but that might be pushing it if I’m honest. Three for me, if you wanted to know. Love them too. Used to have a whole litter of sisters.”  
Harry raises an eyebrow, this being the first time he’d ever heard of them. “Used to?” he asks, leaning back on his elbows against the rail. Louis lights a cigarette before answering.  
“Moved in with my grandparents when my parents died and I didn’t,” Louis explains with a shrug, popping the fag between his lips. “Haven’t seen them since.”  
Harry was silent for a moment, eyebrows knitted together. “Why don’t you go visit them?” Harry asked, wondering if perhaps he was overstepping his boundaries and Louis is going to lash out.  
But he didn’t, just shrugged once more. “Couldn’t look my grandparents in the eye. Or them,” Louis admits, staring down at his shoes and tugging at his braces yet again. “Sort of been a huge flop my whole life, didn’t want them to have to be reminded, yeah know?”  
Harry reaches out, hooking a finger under each brace and tugging Louis closer until he’s pressed flush against his chest. Louis’ laughing quietly despite the obvious pain in his eyes.  
“Found a new use of these things then?” Louis asks, fingers curling around Harry’s bicep.  
Harry grins slightly. “Think they could come to good use, yes. And you’re not a flop.” He pressing his lips to Louis’ before the older boy can protest, short and sweet but with everything he’s got. “You’re not, okay?”  
And Harry wants to add something more, wants to make his words more meaningful. The idea of an ‘I love you’ comes to mind, but he stops himself before he can let it dance off his tongue. He shouldn’t, it’s too soon. So very, very soon and Harry wants to believe it’s just from the fact that it’s Louis and Louis always clouds his judgement. But Harry doesn’t believe it and the idea scares him.  
He doesn’t say it though.  
Louis chuckles, but it’s more breathy than anything. “Whatever you say, chief,” is all he says back, eyes bright.  
Louis spends a while just standing there against the railing, watching Harry as he talks to the children and plays with them. His smile only increases as the time passes, watching as Harry goes from giving the smaller children piggyback rides to having a full circle gathered around him as he tells them all stories. He gets this excited gleam in his eye as he goes on, waving his hands in the air for emphasis and purposely describing each character after a member of his audience.  
Louis doesn’t know how long they stay there, but soon enough the children wander away to do other things or are called away by their parents.  
Harry pushes himself up from his bench, making his way over to Louis with a bright smile on his face. The sun is hitting Harry in such a way that his curls look like a halo around his head and his eyes glimmer. Louis thinks he’s breathtaking, gorgeous, Harry.  
“Sorry, got a bit carried away,” Harry apologizes when he’s nearer, looking slightly sheepish. Louis just shakes his head as he drops his cig onto the floor and grounds it down.  
“No need to worry, babe,” Louis says breezily, grinning at the flush on Harry’s cheeks. “Love watching you interact with the little monsters.”  
“Heeeeeey,” Harry whines, pressing his own hand into Louis’. “They’re not monsters. If anything you’re the monster.”  
Louis just scoffs, shaking his head. “Have no idea why that idea is even implanted in your mind in the first place. I blame Niall.”  
Harry presses his grin into Louis’ hair, planting a kiss on his temple. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  
Louis shoves him away, fighting a grin off his face. “When did you become so mean?” Louis asks, walking away and staring up into the sky. It’s turning a light shade of pink, signaling the approaching dusk. The day had gone by so fast, in one jumbled blur, but Louis’ alright with it. Harry’s in just about every memory of the day and Louis couldn’t ask for anything more.  
Harry follows, keeping up with Louis’ stride easily with his long, spindly legs. “I don’t know. I was never mean before I meant you, must mean you’re a bad influence,” Harry teases, snapping at one of Louis’ fingers playfully.  
Louis slaps his hand away, trying to look astonished. “Me? A bad influence? Never!’’  
Harry just laughs, shaking his head. “So what do you want to do now? Want to head back to my room, see if Zayn is there?”  
Louis shakes his head quickly, pausing when he catches himself. “I mean, you know I like Zayn. But I sort of want to spend today with you.” The statement makes Harry’s heart swell and he nods happily, squeezing Louis’ hand gratefully.  
“Alright, sounds like a plan. I’m all yours.”  
Louis raises his eyebrows. “All mine? All of you is mine?”  
Harry swallows once, and Louis must catch the movement because suddenly he has a sly grin spread across his face.  
“Ah, young and dirty minded Harold, did that send a few thoughts racing through your head?” Louis teases, grin as impish as ever.  
Harry shakes his head, clearing his throat. “If anything it sent a few through yours if you think that. Affected by your own statement, eh, Lou?”  
Louis just purses his lips, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps.”  
Harry doesn’t honestly expect that answer and he turns to look at Louis, eyes searching across his face. He’s trying to detect any signs of a joke but finds none, only Louis’ raised eyebrows and waiting eyes. Harry feels odd under his gaze and squirms, though doesn’t know if it’s uncomfortably or not.  
“You’re serious?” Harry asks before he can stop himself, nerves pulled taut.  
“Why would I joke about that?” Louis asks, seeming genuinely confused. “I don’t think it’s any secret that I think your fit in every way imaginable. C’mon, love,” Louis begins, the teasing lilt back in his voice. “Let’s head back to the buggy and chat.”  
Harry raises his eyebrows, grinning softly. “To chat, hm?”  
“To only chat,” Louis confirms, but the tone of his voice sends a shiver down Harry’s back.  
And who is Harry to refuse such an offer?  
*  
Much later, after the sun has set and the water looks inky black, Harry is found by Ila.  
Him, Louis, Niall, and Liam were all lounging in the General Room, knocking back drinks and sharing stories and striking up random conversation when Ila bursts into the room and, well, she’s not exactly very plain looking in the dress she’s wearing so she draws the attention of just about everyone in the room.  
“Harry!” Ila calls once she’s close enough, squeezing her way between two crowds of people. “Harry,we need to talk.”  
Harry sets his beer down, suddenly very conscious of Louis’ fingers wrapped around his own and the fact the smaller boy is practically in his lap. Niall had only commented about them being disgusting once and it didn’t seem to bother Liam one bit. He doesn’t move, however, not with Louis’ head tucked against his neck and on his shoulder.  
“Hey Ila,” Harry greets, trying to keep any signs of worry out of his voice. “What’s up?”  
“You’re mum has gone absolutely crazy,” Ila declares, dropping back onto a chair and taking a huge swig from Harry’s bottle, wiping her lips on the back of her hand when she’s done. “Been driving me and Zayn mad all day, trying to figure out where you are. I had to make sure she knew you were safe and I knew where you were to ensure she didn’t call for security or whatever, and even then she still wouldn’t shut up.”  
Harry frowned, wrapping his arm tighter around Louis’ waist. “I’m fine, just tell her that I’m staying with some friends I met on the boat. Tell her there’s nothing to worry about.”  
Ila shakes her head. “Apparently she asked around for you and some staff members reported seeing you earlier today with some boy.” She nods her head at Louis. Louis simply frowns at that, wondering what that means for Harry. “Said they had spotted you out on the deck in, as they described, a ‘very compromising position’.”  
Harry snorts, rolling his eyes as Louis barks out a laugh. “‘Compromising’? If a few kisses is compromising, then they would have had a heart attack if they had seen-”  
Ila cuts him off quickly, slapping her hand over his mouth. “I rather not,” she groans. “Don’t even tell me, I don’t want to know, already know more than I want to.”  
Harry giggles and Louis presses his laughs into the skin of Harry’s neck. “So why did you need to talk to me so urgently?” Harry finally asks.  
“I need you to come back and talk to your mum,” Ila says, cutting Harry and Louis off as they both start to protest. “She said that if she doesn’t see you before midnight, she’ll be getting the officers to come and search for you themselves. Said she’ll tell them to arrest anyone you are seen with.”  
Harry tenses at that, shifting slightly in front of Louis almost protectively. He sits there for a moment, thinking, Louis’ silent beside him the whole time.  
“Alright,” he finally agrees, pushing his way off the bench and pulling Louis up with him. “I’ll come by for a moment and prove to her I’m alive. But she’s not keeping me there.” He says it firmly, a statement. Ila looks worried. She knows that Anne may as well be able to keep Harry locked up in his room, but she doesn’t comment. Just nods.  
“Go ahead,” Louis finally speaks up, nudging Harry in the side. “I’ll still be here when you’re done.”  
Harry nods, and Louis stands onto his toes slightly to kiss him slowly, a bit longer than maybe necessary but Harry doesn’t care. The kiss is reassuring and gives him slight courage to go and face his mother’s wrath.  
“I’ll be back soon,” Harry promises, and Louis nods.  
Then Harry follows Ila back to his room, lips still tingling.  
*  
Louis’ worried for Harry, if he’s honest. Worried about the shit Harry is going to get and feeling guilty for it being all his fault. Once the thought is there it doesn’t leave, only festers until Louis feels the shame sinking in his gut.  
“I’m going to go have a smoke,” Louis mumbles, and Niall doesn’t even turn his way as he continues on with his discussion with Liam.  
Outside, the air is brisk and Louis pulls his jacket tighter around him. He’s laid out against the bench, staring up into the sky and marveling at all the stars. It’s amazing out there, with all the twinkling lights above. He’s blowing smoke around, trying to copy the rings Zayn had been trying to teach him when he hears footsteps approaching him.  
He turns, looking up towards the person and his heart drops into his stomach when he catches sight of the person stalking angrily towards him.  
“Shit, Nick,” he breathes, scrambling off the bench, heart hammering away in his chest. The guy is tall, taller than Louis, and though Louis thinks he’d be able to take Nick in a fight he doesn’t like the look of his chances all too well. The odds don’t sway too favorably towards him.  
“Tomlinson,” Nick growls in way of greeting, and Louis’ eyes dart around quickly for an escape. He’d have to get around Nick, Louis realizes with a start, or risk running to wide and easily getting caught. Maybe he can talk his way out of this.  
“Listen, there’s no need to be holding grudges,” Louis begins, trying to edge his way carefully around him.  
“Grudges?” Nick asks, sounding both angry and incredulous at the same time. “You stole my money! You cheated!”  
Louis shrugs. “Honestly, if you think I cheated then I definitely didn’t. I’m too good of a cheater. Not,” he adds quickly. “That I would know. Because I don’t cheat.” Maybe talking his way out was out of the question.  
Nick seems momentarily confused, and Louis uses that to his advantage. He takes off as quickly as he can, thundering across the deck and back into the halls. He can hear Nick behind him, but the knowledge only urges him on.  
He doesn’t stop until his heart is beating rapidly and his lungs feel like they might burst. He had made his way far below deck, and he sags against the wall, gasping in large gulps of air. He hasn’t heard Nick for the past two minutes and decides to take that as a good sign.  
He’s heartbeat has finally lapsed into a somewhat regular pattern and he’s breathing normally when suddenly he’s being shoved against the wall. He yelps out in surprise, grimacing at the pain that shoots up his nose and lip when he was slammed against the surface.  
He’s momentarily confused until he feels the sharp cut of metal against his wrists, and something in his gut twists.  
“Louis Tomlinson, you are under arrest for theft and sneaking aboard with a possibly invalid ticket.”  
Louis is royally fucked.  
*  
Harry is so massively screwed.  
His nerves are completely shot by the time he makes it up to his room, and Ila gives him a sympathetic pat on the back before she scurries back to her room. Harry wishes he was that lucky.  
It takes him a five minute inner pep-talk to finally push open his door and enter the room.  
The first thing he notices is Zayn, lounging across the couch with an air of ‘I don’t really care’ that he seems to have mastered so perfectly. He grins, however, when he sees Harry enter.  
“Eh, you’re back, huh?” Zayn asks, and Harry is about to reply when suddenly his mum is right there, in his face and voice everywhere.  
“Harry! God, where have you been?” she demands, seemingly torn between sounding relieved and angry all at once. Harry gulps quite dramatically in his mind.  
“I was with some friends,” Harry states simply, and before he knows it he’s reeling back with a hand pressed to his stinging cheek.  
Zayn is on his feet in a moment, shielding Harry from his mum. She looks horrified at suddenly striking her son, but soon covers it up with stern glare. She’s trying to justify the action, Harry realizes.  
“Anne-” Zayn starts, not sure how to possibly persuade her into seeing reason but he doesn’t get even get a chance.  
“Zayn, leave us,” Anne orders, voice harsh. “I want to speak to Harry alone. Go join Ila in her chamber, I’ll come fetch you when we are done.”  
Zayn looks reluctant, shooting Harry one last glance before obeying. When Zayn is gone a tense silence fills the room, and Harry’s the first to break it.  
“I can’t believe you hit me,” he says, and he hates how his voice trembles. “Mum…” He feels five years old again, and all he wants is his mum back. The one he remembers, the one before she became crazed with stress and worry and money.  
Some of Anne’s act seems to falter for a moment. She looks about a billion different things-upset, stressed, relieved, and horrified. She’s a timebomb and Harry’s just waiting for her to explode, and he knows he’s going to get caught in the blast. Wish he could somehow stop it, but knows he can’t.  
“You had me worried sick,” she starts, and Harry begins to interrupt her but she cuts him off quickly. “Let me speak. You’ll have your turn.” When she’s pleased at his silence, she continues. “I’m trying, Harry, okay?”  
Harry starts, startled by the statement. He doesn’t understand, is about to say such but a look from her stops him.  
“I’m trying to do what is best for you-for us,” she’s saying, running her hands exasperatedly through her hair and clutching at anything she can get her hands on. “I don’t want you growing up the way I did, with nothing. I want you to have everything you want, to never have to worry about when the money is running out or where your next meal is coming from. I don’t want your future family to have to worry about that either. Can’t you see that?” she sounds, desperate, pleading. Wants Harry to show her that everything she has done, she has done for some greater purpose.  
“I don’t care about any of that,” Harry starts, fighting to keep his voice level. “I don’t know what ever made you think I am so superficial-”  
“Superficial?” Anne snaps, shaking her head. “Harry, the world revolves around money. You can’t go anywhere without it, can’t have anything without it. You’ll die off.” Harry’s thoughts drift to Louis, but he doesn’t comment.  
“Ila is such a perfect match for you. You can both have a very stable future together, have a steady job and a big family and not have to worry about any of this. I just don’t see why you won’t let me help you. And now I’ve been informed you are wasting your time away with some boy-”  
“He’s not ‘some boy,’” Harry protests, fully prepared to defend Louis whatever the cost.  
“He’s a boy you’ve only know a few days, Harry!” Anne nearly yells, losing her cool appearance for a moment. She collects herself quickly, smoothing down her dress. “Are you willing to throw everything away for him? Is he willing to throw everything away for you?” Maybe if Harry had said ‘I love you’ earlier and Louis had returned it, Harry would have the confidence to prove his mother wrong. To say that yes, Louis was willing to do what Harry knew he was willing to do. But since he hadn’t, he said nothing. Just bit his lip as tears threatened to well in his eye and anger clawed at his heart.  
“You can’t promise me that can you?” Anne asks, sighing. “I want you to be happy, Harry. I can’t let you throw everything away for some boy you can’t make promises for. You’ll both be to America soon enough, and then what? You honestly think he’s going to want to stay with you after? Honestly think he believes that you two will ever work once you both step off the ship?”  
“Stop,” Harry whispers hoarsely. “Yell at me about anything except Louis, please. Anything else.” Because Anne is voicing all of Harry’s fears, all of his doubts, and it’s killing him.  
Anne sniffs. “Louis? Tell me Harry, what does Louis have that Ila-”  
“I am not attracted to Ila!” Harry yells, some of his control breaking. “Ila is lovely and funny and I consider her a good friend-she’s proven herself to be a valuable mate over the past couple of days, but I could never feel what I feel for Louis towards her. Louis may not have money or status or anything else you think I need to survive, but what he has is so much better than that. So much more.”  
“I’m not asking you to love Ila,” Anne says, tight-lipped. “I’m asking you to marry her. After that, you can have any side affairs you want, I couldn’t care. Just please, know that your future is with her.”  
Harry wants to throw something. “Side affairs? Mum, do you even hear yourself?” Harry asks, bewildered. “You know how many affairs Dad had, you know how badly that hurt you-”  
“It didn’t hurt because it was a mutual agreement,” Anne begins to protest but Harry is done. Done with this conversation. Done with everything that has to do with anything.  
“I don’t care,” Harry grits out, hands balling into fists. “I don’t care what you and Dad had, I don’t care what you want, quite frankly, I don’t care what anyone wants. You’ve tried to teach me the wrong ideas about selflessness for too long, and now it’s coming back around, full circle. I don’t care what anyone wants, this is what I want. And I’m going to be selfish because I want to be.”  
And Harry turned and slammed the door behind him.  
He made it to an empty tea room before he broke down, and sobbed.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself from the room, when he finally gets the chance to splash some cold water on his face and stare numbly into his bloodshot eyes, he makes his way down to the General Room.  
It’s well past one in the morning once he makes it down to the room, but nevertheless, Niall is perched in his regular chair, trying to chat up some brunette who looks like she rather be anywhere else.  
Harry plops down beside Niall, and he’s there for only a few moments before the girl finally makes her escape and Niall sighs in frustration.  
“So hard to get a lay around here, I swear,” Niall grips, waving his bottle around angrily.  
Harry smiles half-heartedly, stealing Niall’s bottle and taking a long sip from it until he can’t anymore. When he hands it back, Niall seems a bit more aware of Harry’s foul mood.  
“Hey, what’s wrong? You look awful.” Niall says, cocking his head to the side and frowning. Harry only snorts, shaking his head.  
“Thanks, Ni. You sure do know how to cheer a mate up.”  
Niall looks about ready to say something back, maybe call Harry out on being rude when Niall is only trying to help, but Harry beats him to it.  
“I’m sorry, I’m just in a rotten mood,” Harry apologizes. “Mum was angry and we fought about-about everything, shit. About money, about the marriage, and Louis.” He grimaces, a foul taste settling on his tongue that at the thought.  
“Marriage?” Niall asks, brow furrowed and Harry fills him in as quickly as possible. When he’s done, Niall just sits there for a moment, silent. He whistles one, long and low. “You got yourself a mighty big problem there.”  
Harry cracks a smile. “I guess you could say that. So where is Louis, anyway?”  
Niall shrugs, staring a bit dejectedly into his empty beer bottle. “He left awhile ago for a smoke and hasn’t been back since. Figured he got tired and went to bed, probably back in the room or something.”  
Harry nods, drooping back in his chair. “Makes sense. Hey, I’m going to go look for him, okay?”  
Niall nods absently, ruffling his own hair. “And tell Liam if you see him to get his skinny arse over here, he got called in for something and he’s not back yet. I’m lonely.”  
Harry nods, too exhausted to make a joke out of it.  
He’s wandering down one of the lower halls, trying to identify the room that Niall had given him directions to when a sudden, horrible noise fills the hall.  
Harry feels the ground shudder under his feet and he stumbles, grabbing ahold of the wall for balance. There’s the awful sound of metal ripping and Harry wonders how he can possibly hear it over the frantic beating of his heart. But as soon as it comes, it’s all over and the air around him goes deadly silent again.  
All around him, people are coming out of their rooms and into the hall, looking around in bewilderment and conversing in low voices. Harry pushes his way through them, more intent than ever on finding Louis. What was that horrible noise? What just happened? Where was Louis?  
Harry hurries as fast as he can down the hall, focused on the numbers on the door when suddenly he hears someone calling out his name. Liam.  
Harry turns swiftly, happy at the prospect of someone he knows, who has probably seen Louis or at least knows what happened to the ship, but the sight of Liam’s frantic expression sends a horrible shock through Harry’s body.  
“Harry!” Liam yells again, shoving his way past a women who had noticed his uniform and was demanding answers. “Harry,” Liam pants, voice lower. “We need to talk, but not here. C’mon.”  
“Liam-?” Harry asks, bewildered but Liam just ushers him down the hall, opening a door and blocking out the rest of the bemused passengers. “Liam, tell me what’s going on-Where’s Louis?” Harry asks again, prodding frantically for answers.  
Liam bites his lip once, harshly, before finally answering. “Louis got arrested. I heard some boys on kitchen duty talking about it. Apparently some guy made a complaint about a guy by the name ‘Louis Tomlinson’ had robbed him, and when the officers checked there was no record of him. They arrested him for theft and they think he’s a stowaway or something.” Harry’s fingers have gone numb, and he’s about to stop listening, to demand where they are keeping Louis when Liam continues. “And the ship hit an iceberg. They couldn’t turn in time. I think,” he seems hesitant, before finally relenting. “I overheard the captain. It’s bad, Harry. He thinks it’s going to sink.”  
*  
Louis Tomlinson is definitely not a dirty, rotten thief, and he’s hell bent on convincing that to the officer they sent to ‘guard him’. As if handcuffing him to the pipe wasn’t precaution enough, they felt the need to leave him with a watch dog. Louis feels very important, but not in the way he wants to be.  
“Listen, I didn’t rob him,” Louis says for the upteenth time, pulling on the handcuffs in frustration. They make a dull clinking sound against the pipe and Louis wants to throttle someone. “And I told you, ‘Louis Tomlinson’ was my alias for in case someone like him decided to do exactly what he did. My real name really is Sven.”  
The officer raises his eyebrows, mouth twitching up, like he’s amused. “Really? Then what’s your last name?”  
Louis frowns. “I think it started with a W.”  
The officer lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head in mirth, as if Louis were a puppy or an annoying gnat. Maybe a mix of the two.  
“Nice try, boy,” the man says, kicking his feet up onto the table in front of him.  
Louis’ about to make a remark about how he’s not a boy, he’s very much a man when there’s a sudden terrible screech and the whole room starts to shake. Louis clenches his teeth together against the noise, bracing himself against the floor. The officer, startled, nearly topples out of his chair and Louis would laugh at him if he wasn’t so terrified.  
“What was that?” they both ask at the same time, and the officer shoots Louis a glare as Louis shoots him a wide, charming smile.  
With in a matter of minutes a staff member is rushing into the room, and whispers something into the officers ear. Louis frowns, irritated.  
“Well c’mon, now is not the time for bloody secretes. Tell me what he said!” Louis demands, fear making him angry and desperate. What was that?  
“Shut up,” the officer says, seeming ready to advance on Louis and maybe strike at him. But he seems to think better of it, a smile spreading across his face. It chills Louis to the bone.  
“Or, maybe I will tell you.” The way he makes it seem, Louis wonders if he really wants to know. He figures he probably does, and opts to keeping his mouth shut and waiting expectantly for the officer to continue. “Titanic is sinking,” he says, slow and clear as if Louis might not understand perfect English.  
But Louis does and Louis freezes, shocked for a moment before his eyes widen. “Sink? But-The Titanic can’t sink!” He’s frantic now, tugging against the handcuffs with much more force. Tears spring to his eyes as the metal bits into his skin, but he keeps on struggling. “Well don’t just stand there, uncuff me!”  
But he doesn’t. He just tips his hat, and leaves.  
And Louis screams-out of anger and frustration and fear.  
But mostly, he screams for Harry.  
*  
Harry is scared. So scared and so terrified.  
He had told Liam to get Niall, to go get Zayn and Ila and even his mum. No matter how many fights they get in, she’s still his mum and he still loves her. He doesn’t want her going down with the ship, and from the frantic shouting from the staff, that’s what it looks like is going to happen.  
Someone had shoved a life-vest into his chest and he had shoved it away without thinking, hurrying blindly, lower and lower into the ship to where Liam had said Louis was being held. The thought of Louis trapped, down in the belly of the ship while it sank made Harry want to cry and scream and throw up, but he pushed all that down in favor of hurrying as fast he could to his aid.  
He had to fight his way past frantic passengers trying to get to the upper decks, and his heart shattered at every new person he laid eyes on. Would they all sink as well? Would they make it out?  
Liam had told Harry before he left that the ship didn’t have enough lifeboats. Harry had been paralyzed with fear at the knowledge, mind running with the images of all the people who wouldn’t be able to get to that safety. Liam had told him they were already boarding first-class passengers, women and children first. Harry hoped he could make it to Louis in time.  
He had finally reached the floor Louis was on when he suddenly felt a splash of freezing cold water up to his ankles. He looked down, shocked, to see water lapping against his legs and spilling out across the floor. It was increasing slowly, ominously, and Harry had to swallow down the fear and bile rising in his throat for favor of shouting out Louis’ name.  
“Louis!” Harry yelled as loud as he could, sloshing his way through the water and frantically searching the hall. “Louis!”  
After what felt like hours but was probably only a minute of hurriedly searching rooms and yelling Louis’ name, he got a response.  
“Harry!”  
Louis’ voice was loud but distant, and Harry turned in the direction he thought it had come from. Relief welled up in him, if only briefly, and he was able to breath. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the fluttering of his heart under his palm.  
“Louis!” he called again, listening intently.  
“HARRY!” it was definitely down the left side of the corridor, and as Harry made his way towards the room he heard the sound of rattling metal accompany Louis’ shouts. Harry followed as quickly as he could, water now up to his shins.  
When Harry finally pushed open the right door, he nearly cried in relief.  
Louis was perched on top of a desk, trying to keep out of the water, with his hands shackled to a long, white pipe that disappeared into the wall.  
“Louis, shit!” Harry sighed in relief, vaulting himself across the room.  
He was at Louis in an instant, hands on either side of his face and he kissed him fiercely, intensely, with wet tears on his cheeks. He wondered if they were his own or Louis’.  
“Harry,” Louis breathed, pulling away long enough to press a kiss to Harry’s eyelid before pressing one last one to his lips. “Shit, I didn’t think you’d ever find me-”  
“Of course I would, shit Louis, I wouldn’t leave this boat until I’d found you,” Harry answered truthfully, still cupping Louis’ face in his hands. He pressed another kiss to Louis’ lips, sighing out a quick, “I love you, never scare me like that again.”  
Louis let out a clipped laugh, and Harry doesn’t think he’s said anything funny, doesn’t know how Louis can laugh when all Harry feels is horror.“Shit, Harry, I love you too. Now, help me out of this thing.”  
Harry felt the water up to his knees now, steadily increasing even. He shivered slightly, willing his teeth not to chatter.  
“H-How?” he asked, staring at the cuffs around Louis’ wrist. They looked so wrong there, like Louis shouldn’t have anything so horrible even near him.  
“He put the keys in that drawer,” Louis said, nodding his head towards a dresser on the far wall. “It was small and silver. Hurry!”  
Harry nodded, splashing his way over and frantically searching through the drawer. He felt like crying when he couldn’t find it.  
“All the ones in here are gold, Louis,” Harry told him, voice high with frustration and horror. “Are you sure he put it in here?”  
Louis shook his head, dropping his forehead against the cool metal of the pipe. The water was almost spilling over the top of the desk now, already lifting a few chairs off the ground and letting them bob weightlessly around the room.  
“Go get help,” Louis croaked out, voice barely loud enough for Harry to hear. “Go find help, Harry, please.”  
“Of course, Louis, of course,” Harry assured him, making his way over and pressing another kiss to Louis’ lips, not letting himself linger in favor of hurrying back the way he had came.  
He hurried back down the hall and up the stairs, finally able to breathe again when he was finally up in a dry hall that he could run in.  
“Hello?” Harry called as loudly as he dared, an eerie feeling settling around him at the deserted hall. “Hello, is anyone down here? I need help!”  
But no one answered. Harry thought he saw someone once, and he had shouted desperately, but when he turned the corner no one had been there.  
Harry let himself fall back against the wall, leaning his head back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. He needed to be doing something but what could he possibly do?  
And then the lights flickers, and then went out.  
They were out for approximately three seconds before switching back on and Harry felt like his heart had stopped for all of it. He gasped in a breath, searching frantically. His eyes landed on an emergency axe sitting in one of the emergency boxes, and he reached over, grabbing the weight and slamming it as hard as he could against the glass.  
It shattered and he cried out in triumphant, grabbing the axe in one hand and nearly stumbling. It was heavier than he had thought it would be and he had to grip it with two hands.  
He ran as quickly as he could back down the stairs, grimacing when he began splashing his way through watery corridors. When he finally made it to Louis’ floor, the water was nearly up to his chest.  
He gasped, the water sending a sharp shock through his body and making his teeth instantly begin to chatter and his eyes water. But he couldn’t focus on that now, had to focus on getting to Louis.  
So he steeled himself, lowering himself into the water. He breathed out heavily through his nose, holding the axe above his head as he slowly waded his way down the hall towards Louis’ room. The current was faster than Harry had expected and it was even harder to walk, his legs feeling both rubbery and like he was being jabbed with a thousand tiny needles.  
He shoved open the door, Louis still perched on the desk except now the water had reached him and he was shivering uncontrollably, teeth clanking together.  
“Harry-shit.” His eyes fell on the axe in Harry’s hand and Harry felt himself grow slightly sheepish.  
“It was the only thing I could think,” he explained, words slightly garbled from the shaking of his lips.  
Louis just shook his head. “I don’t care, just-Let’s try.”  
Harry raised the axe above his head, ready to swing when suddenly Louis stopped him. “Wait! Shouldn’t you try a practice swing-”  
“Louis there’s no time!” Harry argued back, squeezing his eyes shut and swinging with all his might.  
He only opened his eyes again when he felt the axe hit home, and didn’t hear Louis scream in pain, but in excitement and relief.  
“Harry, why the bloody hell did you close-shit, this is freezing,” Louis yelped, lowering himself fully into the water. It was just up to his chest and his lips were already starting to turn a slight shade of blue.  
“Let’s just get out of here,” Harry managed, reaching blindly for Louis’ hand and squeezing it firmly when he found it. Louis’ fingers were trembling in his hand.  
They made their way out into the hall, Louis muttering a string of obscenities as they went, and Harry gritting his teeth. At one point he had to duck under the water to get under a low pipe, and nearly had a heart attack when Louis didn’t immediately pop up beside him. He did however, and Harry tugged him up the stairs.  
It took two floors before they finally were completely out of the water, and they could run at full speed down the empty corridors.  
“This is creepy,” Louis comments, clutching at Harry’s hand tightly, willing his fingers not to shake.  
“I know,” Harry agreed. “C’mon, I think I hear people up here.”  
Harry rounded a corner, immediately greeted by with the loud yelling of an angry Irishman. Niall.  
“Niall!” Harry yelled, searching for his blond head of hair through the thick crowd of angry passengers. They were all stopped behind a black iron gate, yelling out in desperation and anger at the two staff members on the otherside. They were both standing there, looking as if they wanted to personally smack every person in the face.  
Niall turned quickly, eyes searching frantically through the crowd when his eyes landed on the pair. “Shit, Harry! Louis!”  
He shoved his way back through the crowd, ignoring his own string of angry comments being hurled his way.  
“I was hoping you two were on the upper decks,” Niall said once he finally reached them, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “What are you two doing down here? And why are you all wet?”  
Louis filled Niall in quickly, and Niall just shook his head slowly the whole time. “Well,” he said when Louis had concluded. “Those wankers up there aren’t letting any of us up. Said that they need to control the crowds or some bullshit like that. Only loading the higher classes first.”  
And Harry felt a bout of shame dumped over him, and he rubbed at his neck guiltily. “Man, I’m so sorry about that-”  
Niall just rolled his eyes, clapping a hand against Harry’s back. “Like it was your fault. Liam came and warned me to go my arse up to the deck, said he had to go warn Zayn and Ila and your mum. He made it up there, I know at least. Hope he got to ‘em.”  
Harry hoped too.  
“So how are we going to get up there?” Louis asked, staring fixedly up at the gate. “There’s got to be someway to the upper decks.  
Niall simply shrugged, shaking his head. “Haven’t the slightest idea. Been yelling at ‘em for the past few minutes, but they ain’t budging.”  
Harry felt so helpless in that moment, watching despairingly as the crowd continued to yell and the gate remained shut. But then an idea struck him.  
“I know how to get them to open the gates,” he said, and Louis and Niall both looked at him with equal expressions of bemusement. “Just tell everyone to charge when they do, alright?” Harry asked, pressing a quick kiss to Louis’ damp hair and squeezing his fingers one last time.  
He shoved his way through the crowd, mustering every amount of arrogance and anger he could.  
“Hey!” he shouted once he was close enough, curling his numb fingers around the cold bars. “Open the gates this instant! I’m Harry Styles-a first class passenger and I can assure you my mother will not be pleased when she learned you confined me down here with these people.”  
The words stung the back of his throat and he fought to keep his cheeks from burning as he ranted. But he had caught the attention of both the staff members, at least.  
“Harry Styles?” one asked, and the other nodded at the other.  
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around up there! What are you doing down here?”  
Harry rattled the gate, not having to fake the anger and resentment welling up inside his gut. “Stop asking questions and let me out,” he demanded. He was prepared to make more threats, but the venom in his voice had already prompted one of the guys to hurriedly shove the key into the lock.  
He grinned in spite of himself when the gate slid open slightly, the man trying to reach out and pull him through the tiny space he had created and still trying to keep the other passengers confined.  
He heard two loud voices shout “NOW!” in unison, and suddenly everyone was rushing forward in one huge crowd.  
The men jumped back, startled, as the gate crashed open and passengers poured out, all whooping and hollering. They ran as fast as they could, away from the angry and now cheering mob of people who ran after them, toward the temporary safety of the upper decks.  
Harry pressed himself against one of the walls, finally spotting Louis when most of the crowd had tickled upstairs and only him and Niall were left standing.  
“I can’t believe that worked,” Harry laughed, voice shaking with what he thought might be a hint of hysteria, but he didn’t honestly care.  
Louis leapt at him, wrapping his arms around him and giggling crazily into his neck. “Shit, you sounded so fucking posh,” Louis laughed, finally pulling away.  
“If I ever sound like that ever again, please smack me,” Harry sighed, shaking his head, stilll grinning.  
“I’ll smack you all you want if you two hurry up and get to the deck with me,” Niall cut in, voice urgent.  
Harry nodded. “Niall’s right, come on.”  
And so they sprinted up the stairs, both Louis and Harry helping Niall as his knee began to pain him and he couldn’t move as fast he they could.  
They made it to the upper deck, Niall’s arm around each of their shoulders, where there was absolute chaos.  
People were running and yelling and crying, while staff tried to maintain order but were all becoming increasingly frustrated with the uncooperating crowds. One had even seemed to resort to waving around a gun, yelling back at the angry passengers.  
Harry felt his heart begin to sink. How did he plan on finding Zayn or Ila or his mum in this mess?  
“C’mon, let’s try to find a boat,” Niall said, settling back onto his own feet.  
Harry nodded in agreement, tugging Louis along.  
Halfway across the deck, they collided into Zayn and Liam.  
“Zayn!” Harry yelled just as Niall yelled “Liam!”  
“Harry!” Zayn exclaimed, a smile blossoming on his face as he pulled his best mate into a huge hug. But slowly, his smile was replaced with a frown. “Shit, Harry, I was so hoping you guys had made it off somehow.”  
“I was hoping the same, where’s Ila and Mum?” Harry asked, panicked when he didn’t spot them anywhere behind them.  
“Don’t worry we got them safely onto a boat not five minutes ago,” Liam explained, letting Niall lean heavily on him. Sweat beaded his hairline despite the chilly air and he winced every time his leg shifted. Harry had a sinking realization that if Niall had to swim, he’d drown instantly.  
“There are some boats on the other side boarding men, c’mon guys,” Zayn said hurriedly, helping Liam practically carry Niall through the crowd. “This thing is sinking and it’s sinking fast.”  
The way there was sort of at a sharp incline, as if the ship was tilting upward. Harry realized with a jolt that that was exactly what was happening.  
“C’mon,” he managed out between gritted teeth, holding onto Louis’ hand with all his might. Louis held back with same fierceness, except his fingers were trembling.  
They made their way to the other side of the deck, just when suddenly the steep incline became an almost straight drop down.  
Louis shrieked as they all hit the floor, and Harry reached up blindly for something to grab onto. His fingers closed around the railing of the ship, and he clutched onto Louis so tightly both their fingers turned white.  
All around them, people fell to the deck and began to slide, slide down into the waiting water that split the ship into two halfs. Harry had grown used to the erratic beating of his heart, could feel it in his fingertips and on his tongue.  
He was so caught up in holding onto Louis’ that he hadn’t even heard Niall’s frantic sobbing or Zayn’s loud yell.  
They were both clutching onto objects of their own, trying to keep from falling down desperately. There was only one person not among them. Liam.  
“Liam, where’s-” Harry began, cut off by another loud cry from Niall. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and dripping of his chin.  
“Fell,” Zayn gasped, eyes searching wildly at the chaos below. “He just-he fell down the deck and-”  
And Harry looked down again, swallowing back and choking on a loud shriek or sob or gasp. Because below them was churning, icy water, and Harry knew that no one could get out of that.  
And Liam had just fell and just-just died, right in front of Harry and he hadn’t even seen it. Hadn’t even gotten to thank Liam for all he did for him and shit.  
He could hear Louis’ hiccuping gasps as he wept, for Liam and for all the terror he was feeling.  
But then suddenly they weren’t, hanging, and there was an ear splitting crack and their whole half of the boat suddenly fell back down towards the water.  
Harry’s own scream was lost in the sea of others as they hit the water again, splash echoing loudly in Harry’s ears even after. He scrambled up from the ground as soon as he could, grabbing Louis.  
“Zayn, grab Niall. There’s a boat, right there, come on,” Harry urged, trying to grab ahold of Louis but suddenly the ship is tipping and. And Harry’s going to be sick, he’s going to be sick all over himself-and Louis-and then die and he doesn’t know why this is happening to him or to anyone and what they have all done to deserve this.  
“Jesus!” he hears someone yell and he thinks it’s Louis, and then there’s an arm around his waist and he’s being pulled somewhere.  
Harry can’t hear and he doesn’t think he can breathe, just sort of let’s whoever has a hold on him tug him along. He hears everything but it all sounds distant and he can’t believe this is actually happening. Everything is swimming in front of his eyes, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s crying or everything is actually swimming. He lifts a hand gingerly to his face, touching his cheek once. He doesn’t feel anything.  
“Harry!” and then he’s back, realizing there’s something digging into his back and someone-he’s right, it is Louis-is babbling his name over and over, trying to get his attention back. And now Harry’s so ashamed, so so ashamed for completely winking out when Louis is right there and needs him.  
“Harry, please, Christ, just move,” Louis is rambling urgently, shoving him again and Harry realizes what Louis wants him to do.  
“Yeah,” he chokes out. His throat feels raw and it aches like when he tries not to cry. But he can’t cry, can only think about how afraid he is and how rapidly his heart is beating. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”  
And Louis actually laughs, except it’s not so much a laugh, more watery and he doesn’t sound amused. He sounds relieved.  
And Harry swings his legs over the railing, gripping so tight his knuckles turn white and he clenches his teeth together. Looking to his right he sees Zayn and Niall a little ways down, Niall’s whole face contorted in pain and Zayn’s cheeks wet with tears. Liam isn’t anywhere.  
Louis is next to him in a moment, and Harry tangles their fingers together on instinct. Louis squeezes his hand once, and he looks about ready to say something when the whole ship lurches and suddenly they are completely vertical again and people are screaming and falling, and their just sinking down.  
Louis’ fingernails are digging into his skin but he doesn’t dare move his hand, doesn’t realize how hard he’s trembling into Louis presses their joined hands to his lips, just allowing the soft pressure to soothe Harry. He doesn’t stop trembling, but he does remember to let out his breath and suck in.  
“Alright, Harry,” Louis says, pulling their hands back to the railing. His voice is tight and clipped, and Harry chooses to ignore how Louis’ lips are quivering. “This thing is going down and it’s going down fast. When we hit the water it’s going to be freezing cold, but you can’t just zone out again, got it?” Harry nods numbly, in awe of how Louis could even be thinking so rationally at a time like this, but Louis isn’t even watching him. Just watching the people below as they are swallowed by the dark, churning water.  
“I want you to kick for the surface, don’t stop kicking, got it? The ship’s going to try and drag us down with it. Just-keep swimming, alright?”  
And now Louis is looking at him, eyes wide and urgent and just. Harry doesn’t want this to be his last memory of Louis, doesn’t want to remember him when he’s terrified and about to die. So Harry nods, one shallow dip of his head.  
“I promise, Lou. I promise.”  
And then Harry’s looking down again, and the water is rushing at them sososo fast and it’s an effort to not close his eyes. To just pretend he’s not there and let the water drag him down, anything to stop this undeniable sense of helpless that’s clawing at his heart.  
“Take a deep breath,” Louis whispers, and his lips are moving still but Harry can’t hear anything over the roaring and the shouts and then the water is right there and the boat is gone and Harry remembers to take a giant gulp of air.  
It’s freezing, so freezing and it shocks Harry to his core. All he can see is the blackness behind his eyelids and all he can feel is Louis’ fingers jerking away from his own, and then he’s falling down, down at a faster rate than he thought possible.  
And he remembers what Louis told him to do, to keep kicking, to swim up, so he does.  
His whole body is screaming and somewhere in the back of his mind he’s worried about Louis and Zayn and Niall, but right now his lungs are screaming at him and his mind is going fuzzy and all he can think about his moving forward.  
It’s hard, so hard, and Harry wishes he had taken those swimming lessons with Zayn because then maybe he’d have some knowledge as to how to swim against the current. But he didn’t, so he just keep kicking and clawing towards what he hopes is up, until he finally can’t take it anymore and he gasps in a lungful of air.  
And he get’s half-air and half-water, gulping in a large amount of salt water before he hits the surface. He coughs and gags, heaving out the water and swallowing down what he can’t. His nose feels clogged and his throat is raw, but he’s breathing and there’s freezing wind prickling at his skin and he’s alive.  
He’s laughing, maybe crying, but he thinks laughing because he’s stomach his heaving and he’s squinting. He just can’t believe he’s alive, and maybe everyone else is over their initial shock because most of them are screaming now, splashing around the water wildly.  
And then he remembers Louis and everything doesn’t fall away, but becomes all the more present. The icy air, his aching muscles, the crowd of drowning passengers, and how is he going to find Louis in this? How does he even know Louis is okay? Where’s Zayn and Niall? Are they even alive?  
His gut twists painfully as he recalls Niall talking about his knee injury back on the boat, talking about how he can’t swim and how if they threw him overboard he’d sink like a rock. He just hopes Zayn had a tight grip on him and got him to safety.  
“Louis?” Harry calls out hoarsely, but his throat is so wrecked it’s barely a ragged whisper. He coughs again, reaching out blindly for something to hold onto.  
Most people around him are wearing life vest and Harry feels that crashing down on him because he doesn’t have a life vest and he’s in the middle of the ocean just after his ship sinking and how is this real? It’s not, it can’t be, but it sure as hell feels real.  
“Harry!” And Harry turns so fast he thinks he might have broken his neck, but he takes the relief he feels swelling in him gratefully when he sees Zayn shoving people aside to try and make his way towards Harry.  
“Zayn, dear God,” Harry mutters, kicking his way closer. His limbs feel tired and numb but he forces himself to stay focused, to not wink out again because Louis told him not to and Jesus Christ where is he?  
“Where’s Niall?” he asks breathlessly when Zayn finally reaches him, and Harry can almost pretend there aren’t others around them if it weren’t for all the crying.  
Zayn’s entire face falls and he seems to be having trouble speaking because his lips are moving but no sound is coming out. He looks so ashamed, so guilty, and Harry wants to reach out to him. But he’s having trouble staying afloat as is and doesn’t think that would help matters.  
“Zayn, just tell me,” Harry says, trying to be gentle. He already knows what Zayn’s going to say.  
“He-he, uh,” Zayn shudders. “When we went under, I was trying to get him to the surface-I really did, Harry! But he couldn’t move, his knee must have been killing him, and he couldn’t kick that leg. He was trying to, I could tell he was, but we just kept going down and then he… Let go. Just yanked his hand back and….”  
Harry swallows hard. “He knew he was dragging you down with him,” Harry muses, voice soft. “Oh Niall.”  
“But he wasn’t!” Zayn almost yells, frantic, and now he’s splashing around in frustration. “I could have helped him, we could have gotten up and then-”  
“And then what?” Harry asks, voice sharp. He’s so tired and so frustrated and just so scared and sad. “And then he would have drowned any? Because he can’t swim and we can’t just hold him up forever! Zayn, he was either going to drown or freeze and he didn’t want to take you with him. It wasn’t your fault, do you honestly think Niall wants that? For you to feel guilty for what he did for you?”  
Zayn’s silent for a moment, and Harry can see the gears turning in his head. Zayn doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have that wild glint to his eye anymore.  
“Where’s Louis?” he asks after a moment, words a bit jumbled by the way his teeth have started to clink and chatter.  
Harry can’t describe the feeling, but it’s like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. Like he could scream forever and never let out all his frustration and anger and all the weeping in the world would never lessen how sad he is at that moment. And sad isn’t even the correct word for it. Sad is for when you’re homesick or you lose your favorite book. This isn’t being sad, this is-is… plummeting off a cliff, right before impact.  
It’s too many emotions for there to be just one.  
“I don’t know.” Harry knows he’s crying now, but it feels weird because his face is already wet. And he’s just so exhausted, and somehow all the voices had started to dim.  
He manages to turn his head, teeth clacking together and neck stiff. He wonders if his lips are as blue as Zayn’s.  
Everyone’s still now, and quiet. He still hears a few sniffles but otherwise, nothing. He wonders if anyone’s dead yet or if they're just too tired or given up. Then they’d be as good as dead.  
Zayn has on a life vest, Harry realizes when he looks back over at his friend. His eyes are closed, eyelashes sweeping across his cheekbones. His skin looks pale and his lips are moving ever-so slightly.  
“That girl is dead,” Harry hears after a moment of silence, and now Harry’s definitely having trouble moving. He feels like he’s being jabbed with pins and needles yet at the same time stiff and numb.  
Zayn is looking over at Harry, over his shoulder. Harry looks back, eyes locking on the face of a girl maybe a year or so older than himself.  
Her face is white, looks porcelain even, and eyelids are purple. She looks to have bruises and cuts lacing all around her body and Harry can’t hold back the shudder that consumes him. Harry doesn’t even have to swim over to confirm it, he can tell. She is dead.  
Harry swallows back the bile rising in his throat. “What about it?”  
“The vest,” Zayn chokes out, voice high and soft. He sounds like he’s having trouble breathing.  
Harry realizes what Zayn means and does his best to swim over. It’s hard and takes just about all the energy he has left, but he’s able to unclip the clasps with minimal fumbling and pull it over his own head.  
Harry is floating now, doesn’t have to kick his feet to stay up and he feels his eyes drooping slightly. “Thanks, Zayn.”  
“Anytime, pal.”  
A ghost of a smile hints Harry’s lips, and he flexes his fingers under the water slightly. He wonders how he can be smiling without Louis. He doesn’t know if Louis is even alive and here he is, bobbing along in the water and smiling and doing nothing.  
But Harry can’t bring himself to move, can’t bring himself to do anything but float. It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He would swim for hours in the cold and pass hundreds of dead to just find Louis and at least get to clutch him to his chest, to know that his heart is still softly beating under his fingertips. But he can’t, he physically can’t bring himself to do it.  
Harry doesn’t know how long he floats there, but soon even blinking starts to hurt. He feels like his eyelashes have frozen together.  
Zayn, who had been humming softly to himself for the good half of the time, has fallen silent. Harry looks over, leaning slightly to knock him gently in the shoulder with his own. Zayn’s eyes flutter open briefly before they close again and that’s all the confirmation Harry needs.  
They lapse back into silence.  
Harry has given up. It’s too cold and dark and he wonders if maybe he’s the only person, beside Zayn, that is even still alive out here. He wouldn’t rule it out.  
But then there’s a boat.  
It’s a lifeboat, he realizes. Small and wooden, and there’s four men in there. One is yelling something, but his words are all squeezed together and murky.  
Harry feels himself waking up.  
“Zayn,” he whispers urgently, the sound ripping from his throat.  
Zayn only grunts.  
“Zayn, there’s a boat,” Harry whispers, and it dawns on him. There’s a boat, with people, looking for survivors. And he’s alive.  
Zayn’s eyes open slowly, and he blinks for a moment. Harry can recognize the exact moment his eyes fall on the boat because something sparks behind his irises. Zayn is thinking the same thing.  
“There’s a boat,” Zayn repeats, voice harsh, and Harry nods, a twitch of his head.  
And then Zayn is splashing the water, kicking and waving his arms and maybe yelling, but his voice is too quiet. Harry catches on quickly and follows suit, energy he didn’t know he had coming to his aid. He can live. So he kicks and he doesn’t keep kicking.  
He did make a promise to Louis.  
The wild splashing must have caught one of the crew member’s attention, because suddenly he jerks in their direction and he’s shouting. The boat slowly begins to turn in their direction and Harry thinks, this is it we’re actually going to make it.  
He doesn’t wait for Zayn, just starts moving as quickly-which is rather slowly-as he can in the direction of the boat, paddling frantically.  
He’s shoving people aside as he goes, unable to bring himself to look into any of their faces. Can’t bear to see them all frozen and just gone.  
But when he’s almost there, he’s so close, he finally does.  
It’s not because Harry had a hunch or his gut told him to, but because of Zayn’s sudden intake of air and mumbled, “No, that’s not-”  
But it is, because Harry would know him anywhere, even if he is face down in the water, floating limply.  
And Harry doesn’t care about the boat anymore, doesn’t care about his salvation, not when Louis is right there except he’s not breathing.  
He must have stolen a vest too, because he has one strapped over his chest when Harry manages to turn him over so he’s head up.  
Harry’s holds his face in his hands for a second, thumbs splayed across his cheekbones and begging for his eyes to open. Harry loves Louis’ eyelashes, but not now. Not now when they are all clumped together by ice and refusing to let him open his eyes.  
His lips are pale blue and Harry doesn’t realize he’s muttering until he feels his words accompanied by a sob.  
Harry presses his fingers to Louis’ neck, praying for a pulse. Yelling at any higher being to please take him if only Louis will wake up and not be so deathly pale and silent. But no one answers him because Louis stays silent and there’s no soft flutter of his heart.  
Harry’s yelling and kicking, and he feels like he swallowed a balloon. Because no, Louis can’t be dead because he’s Louis and Harry hasn’t even know him for a long time but he had decided on that first day that he was going to spend the rest of his forever with him.  
Except for now he can’t.  
He think’s that they must have pulled the boat up right behind him because Zayn definitely didn’t have the strength to grab ahold of him and drag him on board. He doesn’t make it any easier for them, screaming as best as he can wriggling, trying to twist out of the man’s grip. Because he can’t leave Louis, won’t leave him.  
Harry shuts his eyes, squeezing them shut as hard as he can and pressing his hands to his ears because Zayn’s trying to speak but he doesn’t want to hear it. Just wants to get the image out of his head, the image of Louis dead in the water but he can’t. Because this is his last memory of Louis and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it, even when he’s a hundred and can’t remember his own name. He’ll still remember how cold Louis felt.  
Harry couldn’t forget.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short epilogue because you always need an epilogue. (Not really that's a lie)

Gemma is hanging in the doorway and she almost rolls her eyes, Zayn can tell.   
“Hey Gem, i was just here for-” Zayn starts before he’s cut off by a small body hurling themselves at him.   
“Uncle Zayn!” Nathan squeals and Zayn can’t stop the grin from spreading over his face.   
“Hey, Nathan,” Zayn greets, bending down and scooping the boy into his arms. He settles him on his hip, bouncing him playfully. “Someone’s getting big, how old are you now? Two?”   
Nathan shakes his head, frowning. He seems to struggle with the word for a moment before finally giving up and just holding up three stubby fingers.   
“I’m three, Uncle Zayn!” he reminds him, sounding rather indignant for a three year old. “Remember?”   
Zayn nods, and turns his attention back to Gemma. She’s smiling faintly, tucking her hair back behind her ears. “Wonder where he get’s his oh-so charming personality from,” Zayn teases, pinching Nathan lightly in the thigh. The boy shrieks and wiggles in his arms, laughing.   
Gemma makes a face at him, shaking her head. “Well he definitely hasn’t learned any manners for you,” Gemma retorts, reaching out and taking her son back from Zayn’s arms. Nathan seems a bit upset by the change but doesn’t go so far as to comment.   
“He’s already there,” Gemma says after a moment, all the playfulness gone from her tone. “You know how he is.”   
Zayn nodded, a bad taste settling in his mouth. “Yeah, I know. I figured he’d go on without me.”   
Gemma nods and then she’s excusing herself as Nathan starts to whine and Zayn turns, starting down the road towards the cemetery. Zayn doesn’t like cemeteries, they give him the creeps, but he goes every year, same as Harry. Harry goes more often, Zayn knows that, but he doesn’t comment.   
The cemetery is only about a five or so minute walk from Gemma’s place, where Harry has been shacking up until he gets a place of his own. After insisting on Louis' body being brought back to England and buried properly somewhere close by, what money he had left trickled away. He had even gotten a plot for Niall, though he couldn’t for Liam because his parents had wanted one back where they lived. Louis and Niall had been quite costly themselves.The Styles were broke.   
Zayn pushed the gate open, shivering slightly from the wind and the high creak of the wrought-iron. He wonders why every cemetery has to have wrought-iron and why they can’t be white fences. He doesn’t think Louis would appreciate the dullness.   
Harry is sitting with his back up against a tree, resting his head back against the bark. His eyes are closed and he keeps pushing the hair from his eyes, not used to his haircut yet. Zayn had finally intervened when Harry could barely see enough to walk in a straight line, forcing him to cut his hair for his own good.   
“Hey,” Zayn greeted when he was close enough, and Harry’s eyes fluttered open. He seemed relaxed against the tree. Peaceful even.   
Harry’s lips turned up slightly, and he scooted over just an inch, patting the spot beside him. “Hey. Join me why don’tcha. See you forgot the biscuits again.”   
Zayn rolls his eyes, plopping down onto the hard ground beside his mate. “Told you I wasn’t walking all the bloody way over there when I was heading out this way,” Zayn reminded Harry, stretching out his legs in front of him.   
Harry just shakes his head, lips pursed. He shakes his head again, raking his fingers through his curls. “Jesus, I hate this. My neck feels colder.”   
Zayn laughs, startling a bird from the tree. It darted toward the sky, tweeting softly as it went.   
“You were losing your curls, Haz. It was just hanging all limp,” Zayn tells him bluntly, rolling a rock between his thumb and forefinger. “You looked awful.”   
Harry just snorts, ignoring Zayn.   
They sit in silence for a moment more, until Zayn finally takes a deep breath and looks over at the gravestones. Three years of doing this and it still feels a bit difficult to force himself to look, to remember.   
He smiles slightly though, when his eyes land on the left one. “Got some new flowers, yeah? I like ‘em. They’re all purple and shit.”   
Harry grins, smiling lazily at the flowers too. “Yeah, the other’s were falling apart. They didn’t look too good. I could practically hear Louis tsking in my head.”   
Zayn nods, giggling. “Was probably making enough of a fuss for both him and Niall.”   
“I don’t doubt it,” Harry agreed, and Zayn pretended not to notice when Harry turned away for a moment to wipe at his eye. He sniffled once.   
“Shit,” Harry muttered, a laugh escaping him before he can stop it. “This doesn’t get any easier, does it?”   
Zayn shakes his head, licking his lips. “Nope, don’t think so, mate. Don’t think it ever will, if I’m honest.”   
Harry nodded, agreeing.   
They spent the rest of their time talking in quiet voices, joking and teasing as much as they could in an attempt to lift both their spirits up. But usually the weight of the entire day pressed harshly on their shoulders and there was just no escaping. Sometimes, late at night when Zayn wakes up panting from his nightmare, drenched in sweat, he wishes he could forget. He knows it’s better to remember, though.   
He wonders if maybe Harry ever feels that way, then dismisses the thought quickly. Of course he doesn’t. Harry rather have any memories of Louis than none at all, Zayn knows that. But he's not Harry.  
After a bit of silence, where they both just sit and listen to each other breathe, both probably thinking of the same thing, Zayn finally stands. He dusts off the back of his pants, stretching his arms over his head until he’s shoulders pop.   
“I’ll leave you to it,” Zayn says, nodding over towards Louis’ grave stone. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Come by later today, have something I want to show you.”   
Harry nods, giving Zayn an empty smile. “Thanks, Z. I’ll be around soon.”   
Zayn nods back, patting Harry lightly on the shoulder. “I know you will.”


End file.
